Alexandra La Reina Vargas
by Dreams of Shadows
Summary: It starts with the rescue of a damsel in distress, and leads to one of the biggest mysteries Holmes has ever faced. But will he ever get to solve the mystery of a woman from another time? Or will it perhaps head in a direction that even he can't predict?
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

The first thing I became aware of was a throbbing pain in my head- the second was the feel of my face being half-submerged in a particularly foul-smelling puddle. So without wasting time I set about getting onto my feet, something which was apparently easier said than done I realised as the movement sent fresh waves of pain dancing across my head. Raising a hand tentatively to the left side of my forehead, I was surprised and horrified to find blood- just what was going on here?

Last night had been a pretty sordid affair- the sixth form had decided we would go to the cinema to see Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, free to those who went in outfit. I hadn't seen the first film, but I didn't want to be the only one not going- so I googled it and decided to have a dress like the one Irene Adler was shown wearing in the cinema poster. Although this one was a dark blue colour rather than the pink-like colour hers had been. That aside, I enjoyed the film and afterwards went straight home- immediately falling asleep on my bed. So the question to be asked would be how on earth did I wind up here? Wherever 'here' was.

I felt like the Doctor had come and whisked me away in the TARDIS to Victorian times- I didn't recognise any of it. The alley I was in looked like it had seen better years, and from what I could see of the street everyone was wearing Victorian clothes and driving around in horse-and-carriage style vehicles. The noises were that of a bustling high street, complete with the smell of horse crap and chimney soot. So obviously this was a place that took their playacting seriously- but not so much the health of another human being who was struggling to fight against the pain of her head. Surely someone must have noticed me?

"Well, well- look at what we got 'ere, boys."

I let out a stream of curses as I turned to look at the new arrivals- namely a tall, skinny red-haired idiot and his two muscle dumbass lackeys. Obviously clichés had to start from somewhere- although I had a feeling they weren't good for anything except torturing poor helpless women.

Although let me point out that I am not one.

"Such naughty words from such pretty a mouth," said red beard disapprovingly, shaking his head. "Your mother would have done well to teach you some manners."

The two lackeys laughed along obediently, thought they didn't appear to get it.

"Your mother would have done well to lose a few pounds," I replied coldly, drawing my fingers in to a tight fist as the look on his face changed to anger.

"Don't ever insult my mother!" he growled, pulling a gun out of his jacket- I froze as I stared up at the barrel, heart beginning to race as he started to pull the trigger.

There was a gunshot- a loud bang which echoed around.

Blood blossomed out of the wound- but not mine, and I watched in horror as ginger beard toppled over. The two lackeys looked down uncertainly, not knowing what to do now that the half brain to their plan had gone.

"I would suggest that you two come quietly, unless you want to face the same fate as your friend."

There was something about that voice that seemed so... familiar. I turned my head to look at my saviour and was surprised to see who it was.

"Sherlock Holmes at your service, miss."

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

When we first laid eyes on the girl, I can guess that even the great Sherlock Holmes had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. A simple case of tracking down a gang of thugs, turned into rescuing this poor lady and then into something even more. She was sitting in a puddle, a dark wet patch soaking through her dress and a large gash on her forehead. Her long hair was black with a red tint that stood out from her pale skin- rather unusual, but not so much unusual as her eyes. Though it wasn't the colour- for they were a dark blue- but rather the expression they showed. Anger. Not what one expects to see in a young lady when she has just been rescued.

"Please tell me this is some sort of a joke," she said, annoyance clear in her tone. She pulled herself to her feet, and I could immediately tell that she had an injury to her left leg. "What's going on here really?"

I was quite surprised by her reaction, and instinctively turned to Holmes to see what he was thinking. He was looking at the girl with a familiar gaze as she approached, limping quite noticeably- but made no attempt to talk to her.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I replied, when it became apparent my friend was too occupied in his thoughts.

She stopped level with me and gazed up into my eyes as she spoke.

"Well for starters you could tell me why I am here."

I was at a loss for words- completely beguiled by this woman who was like no other I'd met before. Most would have been grateful and polite, and yet she acted like we were the wrong-doers in this situation.

"What makes you believe that we may know anything regarding your predicament?" asked Holmes, finally speaking.

"Well you are the great Sherlock Holmes, are you not?" She asked, sarcasm quite clear in her tone. "Aren't you supposed to see more than anyone else?"

Holmes eyes sparkled slightly with amusement.

"Is that so?"

She seemed to clench her teeth before letting out an irritated sigh.

"Well if you're going to be of no help then would you at least let me leave?"

"Out of the question," I responded, indicating to her person. "You have been injured, and as a doctor and a gentleman it would be against my nature to let you leave without treating you first."

"So noble," she said dryly. "But if you don't mind I'd rather leave and go somewhere where you're not." With that she sidestepped me and walked off along the street, clearly not having a clue where she was going and limping in a way that attracted the attentions of everyone else present.

"What now?" I asked Holmes.

"We go after her," he replied, eyes shining brightly. "There is something about her that arouses my curiousity."

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

My heart was racing as I made my way down the street- there was definitely something weird going on here. Was it some sort of practical joke by my friends? Or perhaps I really had stepped into the world that was Sherlock Holmes' home. He certainly didn't appear to Robert Downey Jr- not that I could tell seeing as I'd never met him, but if this were for a film wouldn't he have noticed I wasn't one of the cast?

I let out another curse as I nearly tripped, causing even more pain in my leg- sensibility would have had me let Dr Watson look at it, but I just couldn't suddenly accept that I was stuck in a film. So with an indifferent facade, I ignored the looks of disgust from the various people I passed and continued on my way. Obviously people were not into helping one another in their time of need.

Would it have been any different in my... time? But then I thought back to Watson, who had actually wanted to help me... I shook my head, this was pure nonsense- he was just some actor, none of this was real. It was all some prank- albeit probably an expensive one from the looks of things. So in that sense it couldn't be- unless someone had taken the Truman Show too far.

I hummed Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette, before actually beginning to sing the lyrics as a mischievous smile lit up my face- if I really was in this time, then I could be in for a big adventure. Even if by this times standards I was an inappropriate person, but screw them- they couldn't help me anyway. I was an anomaly- a mistake in time, although that only made me grin more to the horror of the 'dignified' people around me.

However, the grin faded when I had the misfortune to see a someone's reflection in a passing carriages window.

Holmes!

I turned and saw that indeed he was following me, and immediately my nerves faltered- why on earth was he following me? He and Watson were both looking at me, Watson with concern and he with an amused smile on his face. _I'll give you something to laugh about Holmes_, I thought and gave him a mock bow before running off as fast as my injured leg could allow me- which wasn't all that fast to begin with.

Risking a glance behind me, I could see that they were indeed following me- now having broken into a run. People moved out of the way as they watched the scene with confusion, which meant they were catching up on me quickly. Looking about, I dashed into the nearest alley and cursed as I stumbled on another stone before regaining my balance and continuing.

"Wait! We only want to help you, miss!" shouted Watson, and I rolled my eyes at that.

"Watson she already knows that," said Holmes, voicing my thoughts. "Just focus on catching her before she hurts herself even more."

They sounded really close, and I knew it was now a matter of seconds before they caught me. As I thought this, my leg gave out and I collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap- adding new injuries to my person in the form of scrapes on my palms. Obviously now I couldn't get away, so I only tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my leg as the two men knelt either side of me and helped me to sit up. Watson then went to study my leg, the ankle now swelling nastily and Holmes merely gazed at me with some amusement.

"Can I help you?" I asked, rather irritably.

"Well you could tell us why you ran," he replied. "That would certainly shed some light on the matter."

"I ran because you were following me," I replied, and he grinned.

"We were following you because you looked like you needed help," explained Watson. "It looks like you've sprained your ankle- we'll need to get this bandaged as soon as possible. You appear to have significantly worsened the damage by running though, so I wouldn't recommend trying to move again until it heals."

"Marvellous," I replied sarcastically. "I'll just sit here for a while, shall I?"

"First we need to take you back with us so I can have a proper look at all your injuries, and then we can get you back home."

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

At the mention of the word home, her gaze became more agitated and she averted her eyes to the ground. Obviously there was more to the story than it first appeared, so we helped the young woman up and slowly escorted her to Baker's street.

Upon entering the building, she looked around with a mixed appearance of curiosity and apprehension. As though she couldn't believe she was here- although Holmes could probably tell more about her than I could. After all, I once again found myself at a loss in regards to her actions and could think of no reason as to her earlier behaviour.

"Here we are," said Holmes cheerfully, as he opened the door, curiosity aroused by the strange case which this woman presented to us. "Place her on the sofa if you'd please, Watson."

When she was settled I went off to gather the various items I needed, coming back to find Holmes questioning her- his excited look facing her stubborn one. I in turn set to disinfecting and dressing her wounds, half-listening to their talk.

"What is your name?" asked He. "Your full name if you'd please."

"Alexandra La Reina Vargas," she replied with a quick, sarcastic smile. "Most refer to me as Alex though- saves time."

"Well then, Miss Vargas- would you be so kind as to tell me why you ran away?"

Surprise flashed across her eyes, quickly replaced by amusement.

"You are truly a genius," she said sarcastically. "Can't you tell why?"

"Nothing to do with the bizarre song you were singing earlier is it?" he asked teasingly, and she treated him to an offended look.

"I happen to like that song, Mr Holmes," she replied stiffly.

"Well then, perhaps it could be the result of you refusing your parent's wish for you to marry seeing as you would prefer to go out and see the world."

"In a way," was her nonchalant reply.

"Perhaps you seek inspiration for a novel you are writing."

She rolled her eyes and sighed to indicate her boredom as she inspected the grazes on her left palm, ink stains gracing her ring finger and pinkie.

"Still not quite there," she said.

Instead of being annoyed, this merely excited Holmes further- and I could only guess what kind of things were running through that head of his. But obviously he wanted to solve this- it was too interesting for him to ignore.

"Well if you have indeed got no home or money, then you had better stay here- hadn't she Watson," pointed out Holmes.

"It will take several weeks to heal," I agreed, resisting the urge to roll me eyes as well. "It would be best if you remained here so you don't aggravate it any more than you already have."

"Oh joy," she exclaimed sarcastically.

I started to work on the cut on her head, cleaning up the blood which had worked its way to her eye before stitching it up- noting that she flinched quite a lot, obviously she had never experienced something like this before.

"In the mean time," continued Holmes. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us a bit more about yourself."

"How about I don't? It is quite frankly none of your business."

"But I'm quite intrigued by you," stated he. "A young woman, whose clothes are relatively new, with the most unusual personality I have come across and finds it better to run away from help than to except it. My guess would be that the predicament you found yourself in earlier had come as a complete shock to you and seeing as you've never been out much you were unsure as to whether you could trust us when we offered to help you. However you also seem to be the kind of lady who seeks out adventure so perhaps you've had a little family trouble. Do you have brothers by any chance?"

She seemed quite surprised now.

"No actually, but as to the rest of it I can tell you that it is remarkably close to the truth," she replied, a small smile slipping onto her face. "I actually don't have any siblings."

"Really? I would have guessed from your outlandish behaviour that far more resembles that of a masculine influence, that you had brothers who you spent considerable time with. Perhaps then you have close male friends? You must definitely have some sort of strong male influence in your life to behave so."

She was definitely smiling, happy as to her ability to prove the great detective wrong- even I was smiling now. Holmes always acted like he was superior to use and acted like he knew everything- it was indeed good to see him get a taste of his own medicine.

"Actually no," she finally replied. "I don't have many friends- no proper ones anyway, and believe it or not I didn't actually talk to people back home. I found it hard to get along with anyone so mainly it was with my cat. So unless my cat can be classed as an influence I highly doubt that your statement has any truth."

"Indeed," replied Holmes dryly. "Well in that case I'll wager-"

"That my outlandish personality is not the result of male influence?" she finished. "The only part of my personality that has anything to do with that is my stubbornness and that comes from disobeying my father due to my hatred of him."

"Why?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

"No doubt it's because he was attempting to control your behaviour," replied Holmes. "You obviously have an aversion to being controlled."

"Who wouldn't?"

Silence fell over the room, and I quickly finished cleaning her hands.

"There, you should heal up fine now," I informed her. She nodded her thanks and turned back to her previous task of gazing at her hands. "So perhaps we should sort you out a room for you to stay in whilst you are with us."

"An excellent idea, Watson," agreed Holmes. "I'm sure nanny wouldn't mind lending a room to Miss Vargas."

He immediately dashed out of the room, leaving Miss Vargas and I in an uncomfortable silence once again. Both of us unsure as to what to say to the other, it felt like time was stretching out- at least until Holmes came back with a startled Mrs Hudson in tow.

"Nanny, we have a young, homeless woman here who needs a room to stay in whilst her leg heals," he declared, making a gesture towards Miss Vargas who looked almost as startled as Mrs Hudson.

In a matter of seconds Mrs Hudson was fussing over her and helping her as she escorted her to her new room- leaving Holmes and I alone, a situation I could deal with better.

"Remarkable young woman," exclaimed Holmes. "A mystery surrounds her which I must absolutely solve- she may yet be the most intriguing person I have come across."

"Are you sure you aren't trust attracted to her?" I joked, but Holmes looked at me with an absolute seriousness and said,

"Attraction is an emotion akin to love and I have no intention to start a relationship with her- she would only distract me from my work and make me doubt my own abilities." He then walked over to the window. "Besides, you seem to like her quite well."

"You are not starting that again," I warned him. "If you don't like my relationship with Mary that's your own problem but keep her out of it."

"I wasn't implying anything of the sort- being a bit defensive aren't we?"

I sighed softly, knowing full well that this didn't bode well. Holmes was determined to ruin my relationship with Mary- and the appearance of this young woman had just given him the help he needed. Listening to the murmuring voices, I found myself wondering if this good deed was going to turn into a nightmare.

Knowing Holmes it was possible.

**A/N: Okay, my first Sherlock Holmes fanfiction thanks to my new obsession with that wonderfully eccentric detective… that sounded weird. Anyway, a little advice/reviews would be most appreciated ^-^**


	2. Chapter 2: The Steps In The Hall

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

The suffocating darkness of night filled 221B Baker street, all of the residents lost in the sweet dreams that come with sleep- all except two. Sherlock Holmes sat on the floor with his pipe in his mouth, puzzling over the latest resident to arrive and planning out how he could use this to his advantage. Miss Vargas was interesting in herself- presenting answers to his questions that went against the norm. But there was also Watson to take into account- he had always been a gentleman, helping out those in need. Perhaps there _was_ a way to influence his feelings to her, make them turn to romance- that way he could no doubt prevent his future engagement to Miss Mary Morstan, although then that would present the problem of him losing Watson to Miss Vargas. Although she seemed to be the type who would love to have adventures, so perhaps he could somehow influence her into helping out in investigations. That would mean Watson would see more of her and he could also make him jealous by making him believe that he was being replaced by the young woman.

Yes, that was a good plan- she did already seem like the type of person who would love to get involved, after all she hadn't protested to saying with two men. Getting her to stay should be easy, whilst making it so Watson couldn't tell that it had been his idea would be slightly harder- still trivial though. He would then have to allow Miss Morstan and Miss Vargas to meet- which would mean Watson would have to initiate that. Easily done, seeing as he had been trying to get Holmes to meet her- he could use that as a chance to invite her along and then the rest should go well.

A noise alerted Holmes to my presence, and immediately all thoughts of plots and schemes left him as he turned to face me.

"What are you doing up, Miss Vargas?" he asked, no suspicion apparent in his voice- only curiosity. "If your ankle is giving you too much pain I'm sure I could help you out- no need to bother Watson."

I shook my head gently,

"I could ask you the same question, Mr Holmes," she replied. "I just had too much to think about, so at the moment sleep evades me."

"I am in a similar predicament," he replied. "But why are you in my room?"

"It's your room? I thought it was a bombsite," I replied, trying not to grin at his look of indignity. "I just heard this weird noise and came to investigate."

"Well I can assure you that I neither heard nor made any noise at all," he stated, raising an eyebrow. "What was this 'weird noise' of yours?"

"Footsteps," I replied, sitting down opposite him. "Someone was standing outside my room, for about five minutes or so before I heard them head away and I assumed that it was you- although I had no idea this was your room."

"Why would you assume it was me?"

"Well, they were definitely men shoes- which would mean either you or Dr Watson, and considering there was a lack of cane noise- there was no distinguishing difference between the footsteps so I concluded that it was you."

He raised an eyebrow; obviously impressed by the fact I seemed to show some observational skills above average levels.

"Wrong, but may I enquire as to how you gained this skill?"

I blushed slightly, tilting my head towards the floor and brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"I usually stayed in my room, and I made a habit of paying attention to who was coming up the stairs so I would know if I should attempt to look like I was doing what I was supposed to."

A small grin slipped onto his face.

"Is that right?" Then he became more serious. "You are absolutely positive you heard someone walking around the hallways?"

I nodded, suddenly becoming aware that I had my back to the door- which I had left open. Paranoia telling me that there could be someone there, but obviously there wasn't because Holmes didn't appear bothered by anything. In fact, he had jumped up and was pacing up and down with that grin back on his face- as though he had just received a great gift.

"Let's go get Watson!" He suddenly declared. "Then we can all look for this intruder together!"

"Joy," I exclaimed, slowly getting up as Holmes waited impatiently for me. "But why? Surely you could handle one guy by yourself."

"Best not to take risks," he replied cheerfully, though I suspected he had ulterior motives as he led me into Watsons room. "Wake up! We might have an intruder at hand!"

Watson was obviously not very happy at being woken up, but the mention of an intruder had him up.

"Are you sure?"

"Young Miss Vargas claimed she heard a man walking through the halls who waited outside her room- she deduced it was me, but it wasn't so we have an intruder!"

Watson looked at me quickly before joining us as we went on our night time excursion. Although to be fairly obvious we didn't really do much, just stand around nervously whilst Holmes stared at the floor as though it were a piece of art. He made multiple noises as he marched up and down the hallways, the flickering light casting ominous shadows on the walls.

"It appears that there was someone here- male, as suspected and most likely to be in his fourties, prefers to travel by foot and works on the Thames, and because I didn't detect him then it must be that we are dealing with a professional here- no doubt hired by a man of considerable wealth," deduced Holmes. "It also appears that our friend does not know we've detected him and will no doubt make another appearance."

"What makes you say that?" asked Watson, alarm written on his face.

"He was heard to stand outside Miss Vargas room for approximately five minutes, but not any others- therefore it shows that our friend was looking for her specifically, seeing as the room was previously unoccupied and a professional would have made sure to know the layout of the building before attempting such an excursion."

"He'll be back?" I asked, anxiety clear in my tone. "So you're saying that someone is after me."

"It appears so," replied Holmes, walking back over us. "Do you per chance have any enemies?"

"I haven't been out long enough to offend anyone that much," I replied, and he grinned in reply.

"What about the men in the alley, the man we killed may have been working for someone else," pointed out Watson.

"Highly unlikely," replied Holmes. "They were just your average thugs- which is what made that case so dull, besides- his two companions were picked up by Lestrade earlier and even if they hadn't they weren't smart enough to do something like this."

"Whatever it is I have no intention of letting this man anywhere near me," I replied defiantly. "No matter how professional he may be."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Holmes, turning around to look over the banister. "But, under no circumstances, can we leave a lady to defend herself- no matter how feisty she may be. So Watson and I will be joining you in your room, readily armed for the return of our friend."

We both stared at him in shock- Watson about the inappropriateness of the whole thing no doubt, and myself just at the suggestion in general. I mean this was my first night with them and already my life is in danger- that was twice in one day, twice more than in the rest of my life.

"Holmes," began Watson. "I understand that this a serious situation- but surely there is something else we can do. Perhaps contact Lestrade and let him handle this, or at least set out to find him instead of allowing the danger to actually reach into this building. Mrs Hudson and all others in this place could be placed in the way of danger because of this."

"No they won't," replied Holmes with certainty.

"Pray tell me how you know that?"

"Because it's just me they want," I replied, as it dawned on me.

"Exactly," agreed Holmes. "They came to get you, but we can also agree that it's not only you they're after."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" enquired Watson.

"Well, they came immediately after Miss Vargas upon her arrival here- and as stated they must be a professional or at least have extensive knowledge of the house and it's occupants to find her room without hesistation. That would most likely mean that they have been watching the house for several days in order to grasp the layout and habits of it occupants. Now, seeing as that would be before the young ladies arrival that would mean the target was someone else," explained Holmes. "This would most likely be either Watson or myself."

"So what does that have to with me?" I asked.

"It's because she's so much like you," commented Watson. "That or they saw how interested you were in her."

"Precisely, which means the proper target is me and they are after me because they believe she is someone of importance to me."

"What do you mean I'm like him?" I asked Watson, all else not important at that moment.

"Well from within the first few moments of knowing you, it was hard not to notice the eccentricity in your personality which I have only ever observed in Holmes- that plus a few other factors such as your sarcasm and backwards approach to matters."

"And here I thought I was just being rude," I remarked, and the two men chuckled.

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

None of us slept any more that night, the thoughts of our visitor weighing heavily on our minds and preventing even the merest speck of sleep from approaching us. A single candle flickering weakly in the middle of the floor, Miss Vargas sitting on her bed with her head in her hands, Holmes smoking his pipe while watching the door through half-closed eyes and I leaning against the wall whilst my mind made comparisons between the two.

"I have a feeling that he's not coming back," stated she, her voice quiet. "He obviously knows that we know about him."

"Indeed," agreed Holmes, also quietly. "No doubt he must have other people watching the house, and if he knows us well then he may guess that we know that he'll come back."

"So he won't come back?" I asked, knowing that it was highly unlikely and it was confirmed when Miss Vargas shook her head whilst Holmes spoke his confirmation.

"No," he replied. "If he were not under the employment of someone else there would be a chance, but there is no doubt he will come back again- be it tomorrow or in several days."

"Then we must set about finding him."

"I'd rather find some time to sleep," was Miss Vargas' reply. "Which won't happen until I am alone- that or someone drugs me."

Holmes glanced in her direction momentarily before returning his gaze to the door and shutting his eyes completely. For a moment I believed he was actually planning to do the deed himself.

"We will indeed search for this fellow- what kind of detective would I be if I could solve everyone's problems except my own?"

"Probably a dead one," replied Miss Vargas, a mischievous look in her eye. "Or a bad one- I can't quite decide."

"That was a rhetorical question," he replied in annoyance.

"Really? I must have been mistaken then- I thought it was a stupid question."

"There are no stupid questions, only stupid people."

I shook my head at his mistake, watching Miss Vargas' eyes narrow.

"Are you calling me stupid, Mr Holmes?" she asked coldly.

"Well seeing as you answered a rhetorical question that would inevitably be the conclusion to arrive to." His eyes were now wide open and he was watching the annoyed woman with amusement.

"Obviously you've never heard of a joke then," she replied. "Perhaps you aren't as intelligent as everyone thinks."

"Are you doubting my skills?" His voice became annoyed. "I think it's obviously you who can't take a joke."

"Calling someone stupid isn't a joke-"

"I was merely stating a saying."

I rubbed my temple as the continued- they'd only known each other a day and were already acting like an old married couple.

"Here's another saying- hell have no fury like a woman's wrath."

"Enough," I interrupted. "We've got bigger problems than yours two petty argument."

Holmes and Miss Vargas shared once last glare before turning to me.

"Indeed, we must set about finding this man as soon as we can- and it would be best to keep Miss Vargas with us in case he makes a daytime visit," agreed Holmes. "Highly unlikely- but not impossible for an expert. We should head out now in case he is still around."

"He's not going to hang around if he knows that we know about him," I pointed out.

"He may have a deadline," said she. "We don't know anything about his employer yet."

"But seeing as sitting around here chatting won't help- let's go!"

With that Holmes got up and left the room, Miss Vargas following shortly afterwards with a sigh and me behind her.

I think that it was that night which should of warned us.


	3. Chapter 3: The Fight In The Alley

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

As expected it was cold outside- and when you are wearing a nightgown that has been leant to you it does tend to mean you feel it. I was just glad it wasn't silk, otherwise no amount of danger would have prevented me from going back into the house. Although the substantial lack of light or potential witnesses didn't help- to me anyway. Holmes was already looking around with his nose down like he was some sort of bloodhound, searching away whilst Watson and I just watched him- occasionally glancing around in hope of spotting the man.

"He definitely wasn't alone," stated Holmes. "There are a considerable number of footprints which can only be made by the type of shoes which sailors prefer. Several of them also halt outside our house before continuing, our mans also face the road which must mean that he arrived with his employer."

"He makes it sound so simple," I commented to Watson, before calling out to Holmes. "That's great and all but can we just focus on whether he's here or not and where he went if he's not. I mean, couldn't the prints mean that he left with the employer rather than arrived."

"Impossible! These prints haven't been made recently," replied Holmes, still following the trail. "Besides, they then turn around and lead back to the house which signifies his arrival. The prints which signify his leaving are not to be found though."

"Are you saying he's still in there?" asked Watson, indicating to the house.

"Either that or he left by other means."

I rolled my eyes before turning my gaze to the ground, the imprint of shoes clearly visible against the wet ground- although the only thing that puzzled me was I don't remember seeing any rain. There were that seemed similar to each other so I followed those ones instead, Watson staying close to me in case I got into any trouble.

"Holmes- perhaps we should follow these prints instead," called out Watson as I followed them down the road. Not for any particular reason mind you- heck, I wasn't even sure if they were the right ones, but I was beginning to feel the tiredness overcome me. I'd had enough of adventures for the moment- of you could call them that- and just wanted to at least rest my eyes.

"The tracks obviously belong to his companions," commented Holmes as he joined us.

"Well they're bound to know where he went," I replied, a little moodily- even though Holmes hadn't said anything disapproving about me.

"Then let's proceed!" Holmes went off ahead, back to his bloodhound style tracking- with Watson and me trailing behind him as though on a pleasant walk rather than a 'chase'. If you could call it that, that is.

Not another living creature could be seen or heard, only the occasional breeze created any impression that time was moving and Watson's company gave me a reassuring feeling- Holmes having turned a corner and disappeared out of sight.

"What a wonderful way to spend a night," Watson commented sarcastically, falling in step next to me. "I've no idea why he didn't let us stay inside- it's not like we're being much help."

"No arguments there," I commented, yawning slightly. "Don't think I'd have to sleep anyway though."

"No, not likely," he agreed. "He's obviously got a plan if he's dragging us around at this time of night."

"If you say so." I had an uncomfortable feeling at that time- most likely nothing, or the fear of the threat seeing as I got like this watching horror movies. But to assure myself it was nothing I glanced around quickly, seeing nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that seemed threatening.

"Watson!" Holmes voice made it clear he was in trouble, and we both ran as fast as we could to wherever it was he had found himself. The sounds of a scuffle soon becoming clear to us as we entered the alley behind the street, Watson pulled out his revolver as he dashed ahead.

Holmes was attempting to fight off three men- one of whom looked like a pro wrestler- and wasn't having much luck. The arrival of Watson didn't do much- for he didn't shoot at all, whilst I was no help having no idea as to what I should do. Fortunately that was solved when one of the smaller men recognised me as the target and ran at me.

"My turn," I said calmly, remembering back to my school days- and the clubs I took as a result of an obsession with an anime known as Naruto. With a quick movement I hit him in the nose with a palm strike, the element of surprise to my advantage, followed by a spearhand to the throat. Then a quick knee strike to the solar plexus, where the man doubled over, allowing me to follow with a roundhouse kick to the head.

I became aware of the silence as the man toppled to the ground in pain, and upon seeing the others looking at me became glad that I had chosen to wear combat trousers under the gown. They quickly went back to their own battles though, and my man picked himself up slowly- disorientation quite clear.

"You fight pretty good for a girl," he laughed, attempting to sound macho.

"Thanks," I replied, with a mocking grin. "So do you."

He threw a punch at my face, and I quickly dodged to the left feeling it clip my ear as I did. He repeated the punch, so I dodged to the right- this time getting struck in the jaw. As the pain flared so did my temper, and as he reached out to punch again I decided to use kyusho. Grabbing his wrist, I struggled to remember the point which resulted in his other fist delivering a punch to my right shoulder. But I quickly remembered and in seconds he had collapsed to his knees in pain as I pressed down on the pressure point in his wrist.

Holmes kicked him in the face, and I let go of his wrist out of surprise. Looking over, I saw him and Watson sported several bruises between them whilst their opponents were unconscious.

"You are indeed quite agile," commented the detective, watching me with that gleam in his eye. "Such an unusual fighting style as well- oriental if I'm not mistaken, which brings to mind the question as to how you learned that."

"Like I told you before," I replied, rubbing my aching jaw. "It's none of your business. Anyway, are these with our intruder." As I said the word 'our' , I realised how foreign it sounded to me- I mean I was talking about Holmes, Watson and I. Not an everyday group of people.

"And you managed to get yourself hurt again," he tutted. "As for your question, yes- so we'd better get them over to some sort of authority. I doubt nanny would appreciate us interrogating people under her roof."

"She also wouldn't appreciate you setting the rooms on fire," added Watson, receiving a glare- which he promptly ignored. "Did he get you anywhere other than the jaw, Miss Vargas."

I indicated to my right shoulder, but had something else on my mind.

"Are any of these the actual intruder, or they just the employee's employee's?" I asked.

"Definitely the latter- they don't have the stealth required," replied Holmes, grinning slightly. "Perhaps we should keep you around longer to help with our investigations."

"Holmes," warned Watson.

"Well no doubt she'll need to anyway after putting so strenuous an activity on her already injured leg- she might end up with chronic ankle instability, then she'd be hurting herself every other week."

"Much like someone else I know," he replied coolly, before casting my bandaged ankle a glance. Although I had completely forgotten about it in the chaos, though know it made sure I remembered with strong waves of pain.

"Perhaps we should sort out the men first?" I interjected- not that I didn't enjoy their arguments. I guess I'm just evil like that.

"Indeed- we will need to find the nearest of the police," agreed Holmes, which was followed by him pulling out his revolver and firing it upwards- the loud bang making me jump. "That should get their attention."

"Certainly got mine," sighed Watson, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Holmes, was that really necessary? I wouldn't be surprised if the whole street was awake now."

"Well they're not important- besides, we might be lucky enough to draw out our intruder."

"Or scare him off," I added.

"Quite possibly."

There was a short silence, as we waited for any sort of official to appear and I found myself humming a random tune quietly. Thinking how different it was going to be without any major technological advancement. Perhaps I could goad Holmes into making the internet.

Moments later several policemen- or peelers if you'd prefer- dashed into the alley, signalling to us that our adventures were over for the night.

**~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~**

I woke up around eleven-ish, after spending quite some time trying to fall asleep. Of course it didn't help that I was aching in various places thanks to preceding events. But seeing as it would soon be lunch I could hardly lie in bed all day- unfortunately- so I begrudgingly got up and dressed into the … well, dress that Mrs Hudson had lent me whilst mine was cleaned. It wasn't very fancy and to me felt very peculiar since I was used to jeans and hoodies (I was still wearing my combat trousers- dresses were the source of all evil after all) and the only good part was that it didn't make my butt look like it had been inflated.

After a quick wash, I then proceeded to head into the 'living room' as I suppose it could be dubbed, where Holmes was leaning back in his chair, smoking his pipe and Watson was on the sofa with the newspaper hiding him from view.

"You've got a nasty bruise on your jaw now," Holmes observed.

"Good morning to you too," I replied, joining Watson on the sofa as he placed down the paper.

"You should really refrain from walking too much," he said disapprovingly, then I saw his eyes move to my jaw. "That definitely is a nasty bruise."

"I know," I replied with a sigh, having seen that the left side of my jaw had gone a pretty shade of purple. "So drop it- anyway, have we heard anything about our friends?"

"You look like you've painted your jaw in an attempt to fit into a primitive culture," was Holmes reply. "I guess that it quite painful."

"You'll find out soon enough," I replied coolly. "Now if you'd just answer the question."

"Are you threatening me?" Holmes grinned, and Watson returned to his paper with a sigh. "Watson, she's threatening me! I've never been threatened by a woman before."

"A miracle in itself," I replied, wondering if it were possible to make a man spontaneously combust.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the genius- you tell me."

"Stop bickering, children," said Watson, and we looked at him with annoyance. "To answer your question, Miss Vargas- no, we haven't heard anything."

"Watson, you're not that much older than me so I find it annoying for you to call me a child," Holmes informed him, and I rolled my eyes.

"Well you certainly act like one," I commented.

"You're one to talk."

We glared at each other, whilst Watson appeared to be ignoring us and most likely hoping it wouldn't evolve into physical stages. We didn't say anything for a while, our thoughts soon changing- in Holmes' eyes I could see that he was regarding me as he would a puzzle and I was using it as a chance to study his appearance.

His dark brown hair stuck up at irregular angles, stubble covering his chin and gave him a dishevelled appearance. All of which pointed to a man who didn't really care that much about his appearance- not that I was complaining, he was extremely good-looking. I mean have you seen some of the things RDJ has been awarded- 5th place in the sexiest man alive contest 2009 by Peoples magazine, and voted sexiest man in the world by Hungarian magazine 'Periodika'. Personally I agree with the latter- Regarding Holmes that is… Good thing no one can read my mind. Anyway, he had a split lip and a few drops of blood on his collar- compared to my bruise- which were the only things which showed he had been fighting last night… this morning. His brown eyes showed the sharp mind he possessed, studying me in a much more intimate manner than I could ever achieve- no doubt picking up various bits of information about me.

"I don't know if I prefer the arguing or the staring," Interrupted Watson, and I immediately averted my gaze, blushing slightly.

"I do believe I've got some blush that could cover that if you'd like," Holmes informed me, amusement clear in his tone.

"I didn't know you liked to wear make-up," I exclaimed, changing his amusement to irritation.

"It's for disguises," he replied.

"Oh, absolutely." To annoy him further I gave him a over-emphasised wink. "Just for disguises."

He didn't rise to the bait, instead choosing to make good with his offer and retrieving the blush. Within seconds he had joined me and Watson on the sofa and was studied my face intently before placing his had on the unhurt part of my jaw, manoeuvering my head for a better view of the bruise.

"I can't do anything about the cut on your forehead," he finally said. "But I can definitely make it look like you haven't been through the wars."

"If you say so," I replied quietly, feeling a bit uneasy about how close he was to me.

He did it with an artistic touch, and when I did risk a glance at him he had a look of deep concentration on his face. Whilst Watson had finally abandoned the paper and was looking away as though we were kissing intimately rather than covering up an injury. Though thankfully Holmes didn't take long and he grinned as he admired his handiwork.

"What do you think Watson?" He asked.

"Very nice, now get back to your own seat," replied Watson, not even looking.

Holmes turned to face him.

"Are you really that keen on getting rid of me?" he asked. "This is my sofa."

"Our sofa," corrected Watson.

"Not for much longer- I hear you're planning on moving out."

"We're not starting this."

Holmes didn't move, instead he placed his arms over the back of the sofa and looked into the distance. Silence filling the room, giving us only a temporary relief from him.

"Perhaps I will let Miss Vargas work with me- since you're leaving us," he finally said.

"Holmes, you always manage to get into some sort of trouble- I'm not sure it's a wise idea to bring a woman into it, it's too dangerous." He gave me an apologetic glance. "Besides, you're just acting like a stubborn child."

"Miss Vargas can take care of her self quite well," Holmes replied. "We shall test her with the case that our two visitors present."

There was a knock at the door, and Watson and I both looked at him as he went to answer the door. How on earth did he know? The door opened to reveal a distraught couple, who held onto each other tightly.

"Can you help find our daughter?"


	4. Chapter 4: The Hunt Begins

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

"Another one," I commented gravely, as soon as the parents had left. "That will be the sixth one now."

"Indeed," agreed Holmes, sitting back in his own chair. "Though I hope to find this one alive."

"What are you talking about?" asked Miss Vargas, confusion showing on her face.

"This isn't the first young lady to go missing," Holmes explained. "Five others before have gone missing- all killed in some kind of ritual. So we can assume that the same people have her- which should make tracking her down easier."

"Maybe so, but I hope you're still not considering bringing Miss Vargas along- if they're killing women it would make most sense to leave her out of it," I informed him. But he just raised and eyebrow and looked at me in amusement.

"You seem to be forgetting our visitor- if we leave Miss Vargas here she will no doubt get kidnapped," pointed out Holmes. "No matter how great her fighting skills may be."

She looked annoyed at his comment, but made no protest against it and leaned back into the chair with a sigh of boredom. Either she knew the truth of it or she didn't want to lose her chance of joining us, and I could easily guess that Holmes wouldn't have allowed that. I'd known him long enough to tell that he was up to something and it didn't bode well for either me, Mary or Miss Vargas.

"Any ideas about where to start looking?" I asked.

Holmes just stared, as if to admonish me for asking such a question.

"Of course," he replied. "The fact we can link it to those rituals narrows it down significantly."

"Care to divulge any information? Or do we just sit in the dark until you drag us off to arrest the bad guy?"

Holmes grinned.

"That will do quite nicely," he replied.

I rolled my eyes, and Miss Vargas snorted in a very un-ladylike manner.

"So what are we going to do as far as the intruder goes?" She queried; wariness in her eyes. "It's all very nice and well that we've got to save this girl- but I'd sleep a little easier knowing something was being done about this as well."

"As would I," I agreed. "We can't just drop this because a new case appeared."

"Silly Watson," scolded Holmes. "Do you really think I would forget so interesting a case? I find that it will be quite stimulating to handle two cases at once. Anyway, I have the Baker street irregulars on the lookout for the moment."

"I definitely feel safer now," I replied sarcastically.

"The who?"

Holmes grinned at her, and she glared at him in return- obviously not happy about his mocking her ignorance.

"No need to worry, Watson," He said, deliberately ignoring her. "I'm sure you could defend yourself."

"It's not me I'm worried about," I replied, looking back to Miss Vargas. "It's you two."

"Like I said- no need to worry." He then proceeded to get up and walk over to the window.

"Is he actually going to ignore me?" she asked me, raising an eyebrow as she turned to look at me. "He's very annoying."

"You get used to it," I replied . "There are many habits of his which you might consider annoying- all of which you will get used to."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and her gazed moved back to Holmes.

"Like what?"

"I hope you aren't questioning my actions, Watson," Holmes interrupted, turning back to face us. "They all help me when it comes to solving cases."

"How does playing the violin at one in the morning help you solve cases?" I asked. Holmes frowned, looking annoyed- and Miss Vargas didn't look to happy either.

"You do what now?" The look on her face was quite fierce, and even Holmes looked a bit unsure. "Mr Holmes I can assure you that I do not take kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night."

"No one does," he replied, somewhat curtly. "But sometimes things will happen that we don't take kindly."

"More so when you're involved," she replied.

He raised an eyebrow at her,

"We seem to have strayed off the relevant subject."

"Are you implying that it's my fault?"

"Don't start that again," I warned them, feeling like I was dealing with a pair of children- which was to be expected in Holmes' case.

"Don't worry, Mother Hen," replied Holmes with a sigh. "We weren't starting anything- merely finishing it."

"How about focusing on the case? You spent ages complaining that you didn't have any interesting cases and when you get two at once you don't pay much attention to them."

Holmes smiled mysteriously,

"Three," he corrected. "One of which I'm paying quite a lot of attention to."

It didn't take Holmes' level of observation to figure out what he was talking about, and Miss Vargas turned away with a slight blush on her cheek as she muttered something that made Holmes' smile change to a grin.

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

He brought over a map, moving the tray off the table in order to spread it across the top and using the various cups and pots to stop it curling back up again. We went over to him and he pointed to five different places.

"These are the places where the other five were found ," he explained. "The places were not similar in any way, so we must conclude that these places were chosen for their location."

"What were the locations?" asked Miss Vargas, arms folded against her chest and a frown on her face.

"Mainly the sewers since they were all underground, which is where we can guess they will go next," replied Holmes. "One of them was in a crypt and another in someone's modified basement- although that 'someone' had conveniently died a while back so nothing to get there."

"So where do you think we should look?" I asked him.

"I- am going to look over here," he replied, pointing to part of the map before pointing to another. "You and Miss Vargas will look here- there is a gothic church there which might provide some answers."

"She needs to rest her leg," I reminded him. "Or else she will in all probability end up with permanent damage."

"We went over this earlier," Holmes replied. "You really are forgetful, Watson."

I sighed in annoyance- there was just no winning with that man, he always had to have the last word.

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

Watson and I were currently on our way to the church, and I found myself wondering if Holmes was always this fast to come up with locations- I mean he must have some idea if he's willing to go looking. But then again I didn't know much about the detective- I'd only ever seen A Game of Shadows and various bits of the first one, which I think we were actually getting into. I'm pretty sure there was something to do with ritual death type things.

"I can't believe I agreed to you coming along," Watson stated angrily, then looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, but this may be my last case with Holmes, and I don't want to end up having placed a young woman in bad health- I don't wish to end up being the cause of permanent injury to you."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I informed him, feeling quite happy that someone was actually concerned over me. "And if not we can always blame Mr Holmes."

Watson smiled at me and chuckled slightly.

"Don't worry- I will," he replied. "He is a smart man- but not when it comes to relationships and someones health."

"He must have so many friends," I stated sarcastically, feeling sad as I remembered my own lack of friends.

"Are you okay?" asked Watson, looking at me with concern.

"Just a bit of a headache," I lied. Honestly, I felt like It was one of those fanfics where the OCs resembled their romantic interests quite well- not that I was like that, I mean my observational skills were nowhere near his level and I had no idea how to solve this case. Plus I wasn't interested in him that way- well, perhaps just a silly crush because of his looks, but that would fade away quickly. Especially when I think back to the fact we've only known each other a day and we've argued plenty of times.

Plus there was the fact when I got really annoyed I would plot out ways to kill them- some of them getting quite gruesome. It was a good thing I'd actually never go through with any of them- I wasn't a killer.

"Here we are."

I turned my gaze to the building which stood before us; a church with all the usual features but a sort of darkness about it- perhaps it was the presence of the gargoyles which looked down at us, the actual darkness of its colour or even just the notion that it could be connected to the kidnapping or death of a young woman. It held an appeal to me though, who was rather fond of things that go bump in the night- not that I'd ever want to meet any.

"The sooner we start the better," Watson commented, and I nodded in agreement as we walked through the archway.

When we entered, it looked quite clear that this building was not used very often; a thick layer of dust covered everything and spiders had made their homes between the candlesticks, the only light coming through the stained glass windows which left the building in multiple colours. All of which gave the room a very mysterious feel that intrigued me to the core- it looked so beautiful.

"What do we look for then?" I asked Watson, looking around as I approached the alter. "It doesn't look like anyone has been here in years."

"More like months," commented a voice, and we turned to see a priest approach us. "What brings you to this sad old building? Are you looking to get married here?"

Watson and I looked at each other in shock,

"Not at all," replied Watson hurriedly, blushing slightly.

"We are just colleagues," I corrected the man, who smiled at our reactions, and that was when I got an idea. "We were looking into some of the less fortunate churches in the area to see if they had features which we could use to bring back the publics interest."

"Really?" His gaze seemed hopeful at that. "It would certainly make my heart feel lighter if this church saw life once again."

Watson looked at me curiously before turning back to the man.

"Yes, we were wondering if we could look around the place," he agreed. "Are there any rooms of special interest here?"

The priest looked thoughtful.

"Well there is a room built beneath the church which used to be used for the meetings of a secret society," he finally said. "It still sometimes does draw interest because of its supposedly dark history."

Watson and I shared a look of hopeful victory-perhaps this was the place we were looking for.

"Perhaps we could view it then, if that's alright with you," I queried with an amiable smile on my face.

"Of course," replied the priest. "If you would follow me."

Watson offered me his arm, and I took it without thinking before we began to follow the priest. It was seconds later that I realised how close I was to him, and I quickly snuck a glance at him which revealed that he was lost in his thoughts. However, he seemed to have noticed my attention and broke out of his reverie.

"Feeling doubtful?" I asked him, and he shook his head.

"Well, a little- but that's not what I was thinking about," he replied, not looking at me. "I was just thinking about Mary- she's my fiancé."

"You're getting married?" I asked, somewhat surprised. "Is that what Mr Holmes meant when he said you might not be with us much longer?"

He nodded in confirmation, and I groaned in annoyance.

"You mean I'm going to be left on my own to suffer at the hands of that annoying man?"

He offered me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, as your doctor I'll have to check up on you regularly," he replied, and then chuckled. "I've only known you for a day but it feels so much longer."

"Indeed," I agreed, thinking to the film and then mentally hit myself for not remembering he got married. It was to that Mary woman who Holmes pushed off the train- I hadn't exactly been fond of her.

We had now descended some stairs which had been concealed in the shadows next to the alter, and I could feel the pain which said to me that stairs weren't welcome for my ankle. Watson noticed but didn't say anything, only watched me carefully to make sure I didn't fall down them.

A black oaken door some came into view, nothing of which would suggest anything special- but when the priest opened it he shouted out in horror and we quickly went over to see, and when I set foot in the room I felt horror rise up in me at the sight which lay before us.


	5. Chapter 5: The Rescue

I tried not to scream as I saw it- the body lying across the table with a horrified look on his face and what looked like a bullet wound in his chest. My heart was racing in my chest and I found I couldn't move- I knew who that was! I knew him! It was the guy who attacked me last night, but he had been alive then- and now…

"Shouldn't he be in jail?" asked Watson as he looked at the body with a mildly disgusted face. Then he noticed my reaction and he came over, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to stay in here- you can go back upstairs if you'd like."

It was so tempting that I almost accepted, but I knew that if I were going to work with Holmes then I would need to accept this- after all they'd probably seen worse. So with a shaky smile I shook my head and tried to remind myself that –even if it was fake- I had seen worse in the Saw movies.

"I'm fine," I replied, and he raised an eyebrow. "Just a bit shocked."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to turn out more stubborn than Holmes?"

I grinned at him, feeling a little stronger now.

"Well I am a woman so I do have those motherly instincts," I replied. "Plus I'm going to show the world that a woman can fight crime as good as any man."

Watson smiled but didn't say anything, he instead went over to the dead man and started investigating.

"No time to waste- the police will be here soon," he said as he pulled out his kit and began examining the man. "Perhaps they can explain about how he got here."

"What about Mr Holmes?" I asked, as the thought crossed my mind. "Won't he want to look into this?"

"Maybe," agreed Watson. "But he's on the other side of London, and I don't think the police are going to be willing to wait for him whilst a man who's supposed to be in their custody lies dead on the table- no matter how much Holmes complains."

I smiled, ignoring the corpse and focusing my mind on what Holmes would be like when he found out about this- he didn't trust our observational skills at all I'm guessing, so it will an opportunity to find the intruder that he's missed. No doubt even if we searched this room a thousand times over he'd still think we'd missed something. Although no doubt I'd probably agree with him since I'd lose interest after even the second time- probably even the first.

"So what's the plan?" I asked him, trying not to let my voice shake- it was just a dead body, it was just a dead body… Yeah right, who am I kidding? I was … I don't know- shocked? Scared? I mean working with Holmes would likely get me killed- but I couldn't exactly do anything else at the moment.

I jumped slightly when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see Watson looking at me sympathetically. Obviously I wasn't fooling anyone, and I found myself hating the rigid rules of society- because I just wished I could hug him tightly and forget about this. Perhaps I even wished to wake up, so I could go home- no, not that, never that.

"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "No one will think any less of you if you're upset by this- it shows you're human."

I doubted Holmes would see it that way- and I guessed it showed on my face because Watson then said;

"Don't worry about Holmes- he'd understand." He then went back over to the table. "Now as for the plan, we'll need to try and find as much information as impossible- so if you wouldn't mind looking around the room."

Without a reply I began to study the room, committing every last detail to memory and hoping I wouldn't miss anything out- although what these things meant or even meant were another matter entirely. I'd just have to hope that Holmes knew what he would be looking for and that his questions could help me recognise what I was looking at.

Because lord knows I didn't.

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

The man had been dead for approximately six hours- we last saw him about eight hours ago, so whatever happened to get this man out happened quickly. But if he got out then surely the other two must have escaped?

Looking at Miss Vargas, I could see it that this encounter with death had left her shaken. It wouldn't get any better, but hopefully she would be able to handle it better in upcoming cases – a thought which didn't bring comfort to me. Holmes obviously believed that she could handle this, but I couldn't help but doubt him on this- what was he thinking this time?

These thoughts plagued me as we headed back to Baker street, taking a taxi to save further strain on her ankle.

The police had been baffled as to how their prisoner had ended up on the table, so much that they had Lestrade come down before they moved him or anything. After a quick check they realised that the three men in their cell weren't the ones they had picked up. So now we had that mystery to solve- and it didn't look like it would be an easy one. Well, I'm sure Holmes wouldn't agree, and so Lestrade had joined us in order to see what the detective would have to say about this.

When we arrived, I was only half-surprised to see Holmes standing in the doorway with a triumphant look, which changed to surprise when he saw Lestrade with us.

"What have you been up to now, Watson?" He asked, smirking. "Whilst you've been messing about with Miss Vargas I have discovered the location of the missing girl- or rather, where she's going to be tonight."

"Well you can expect us to be joining you," said Lestrade. "Meanwhile we've got a new mystery for you to solve- one involving your assailants from last night."

"When it rains it pours," he chuckled, but I could see the seriousness in his gaze. "Come on up then Inspector- but where's Clarkey? Isn't he usually with you?"

"It may surprise you to learn this, Holmes," began Lestrade as he passed the detective- sarcasm heavy in his tone. "But we are involved in the case of the missing girl."

"A surprise indeed," replied Holmes and he followed Lestrade back with a grin in whilst I followed Miss Vargas as she slowly climbed up the steps to the front door.

"He must be so popular among the police," she exclaimed sarcastically as we entered the building. "It's a wonder they don't blame him for half the crimes since he can take so much out of so little."

I looked at her with surprise- that wasn't the kind of thing I had expected her to think.

"He'd be a pain to take to see a magic show," she continued, and I chuckled slightly- her earlier comment still on my mind.

"I doubt you'd be able to get him there in the first place- unless it had something to do with the case," I replied.

We walked up the stairs, soon back in Holmes' room whilst Lestrade brought him up to date.

"You two took your time," Holmes said when he saw us. "I was going to send Lestrade to find you."

"So sorry," Miss Vargas replied sarcastically as she sat next to him on the sofa. "We got lost on the third step."

Holmes and I chuckled at the look on Lestrade's face- he obviously wasn't used to a woman speaking like that.

"Well why didn't you ask for directions?"

"I wanted to- but Dr Watson was adamant that he knew the way," she replied.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" asked Lestrade as I sat down.

"Of course," replied Holmes as he placed his fingertips together. "We will deal with the escapees later- we will need to find the girl first since her life is in mortal peril."

"You have a plan?" I asked.

"Don't I always?" He replied with a smirk.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

I prepared my revolver with some displeasure as we headed to our destination- Lestrade not to happy as well. The problem? Holmes had once again insisted we bring Miss Vargas along with us as we went to retrieve the kidnapped girl- his logic rendering any counter-argument we had as useless. So I could only hope that she didn't get into any trouble, although her fighting skills would make her a lot harder to take down than most women. My thoughts drifted to Mary, who would no doubt be even more pleased when left Holmes because of our newcomer. But as I looked at Miss Vargas, who was sitting to the right of me with a look of forced calm, I had a feeling that I was going to be seeing more of my new patient than I'd like- as a doctor that is.

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

My heart was in my throat as we headed off to wherever it was we were going- Holmes had opted not to tell Watson and I, so we only knew that is was some temple-crypt sort of place- my words not his. His words were more along the lines of 'you'll see when you get there'- words which almost earned him a slap around the face.

"We're here," said Lestrade quietly as the carriage came to a halt, and he gave me a quick glance before turning to Watson. "I'll assume that you and Miss Vargas will be going to join Holmes- go find him whilst I get the boys ready, and don't do anything reckless."

"It's not us you have to worry about," replied Watson, as he took my hand. Leading me out the carriage I looked around to the open doorway which sent a shiver down my spine. "Looks like he went off ahead- as usual."

We went off after, descending the steps as we followed the sounds of fighting- no doubt Holmes and one or more guards. Sure enough, after passing one unconscious person we found him battling with another. Watson quickly went over and wrapped his arm around his neck.

"Always good to see you Watson," whispered Holmes, sending a quick grin my way. "Nice of you to join us, Miss Vargas."

"If you say so," I replied, leaning against the wall- trying not to let the fact I was watching them kill someone right in front of me.

"Did you remember your revolver?" asked Watson.

"Knew I forgot something- I thought I left the stove on."

"You did," replied Watson and I tried not to laugh- it wasn't that funny, but one tends to laugh more when facing danger and death.

Holmes let go of the man as he fell limp.

"That's enough Watson," he whispered. "After all, you are a doctor."

Watson looked down and let go of the man, who fell to the floor with a soft thump. Clenching my jaw slightly, I went to look over the balcony with them as Watson handed Holmes his gun- a woman lay on the table and appeared to be possessed or something. But this being the Holmesian world it was no doubt something sciency and non-magic related.

"I do, you do, we all do voodoo," I muttered under my breath and Holmes sent me a grin whilst Watson just looked at me in confusion.

I could see a man standing behind the table with his hands raised whilst he did some weird chanting style thing. There were five other people in the room- one in the same hooded cloak as the chanting guy whilst the other four were in normal attire- guards probably.

"Shall we?" asked Holmes, holding out his hand, and Watson rolled his eyes and walked off ahead, I took his hand, which he raised up and I blushed slightly as he kissed it. "My lady."

"Now you choose to be polite?" I asked him, to cover my embarrassment and he gave a grin as he led me down the stairs. When we reached the bottom he let go of my hand, Watson and him stepping forward to deal with the men.

"Good evening, sweetheart," said a man, and I sighed in annoyance as one of the men came over. "What brings you 'ere?"

"Certainly not the locals," I replied sarcastically and held my hands up defensively as he approached, and pulled a face. "When was the last time you had a bath?"

He swung his fist at my face, and I blocked it with my elbow before karate-chopping his throat and bringing that arm backwards to block his other punch. He kicked me in the stomach and as I doubled over in pain he swung his fist at the back of my head. I quickly rolled forward and kicked out at him, the leg with the bad ankle colliding with his fist and my other with his junk. He then doubled over and as I got to my feet I brought both fists down on the back of his neck.

"You bastard," I hissed at him, clutching my stomach whilst I tried to put weight down on my twisted ankle. He got back up, only for a bullet to hit him in the back of the head and I watched in shock as he fell over. I looked to see who had fired the shot and saw Holmes had twisted his opponents arm around, a concerned look on his face as he finished him off.

"Are you okay, Miss Vargas?" asked Watson when he came over, Holmes going over to the girl.

"Call me Alex- saves time," I replied, as he touched my stomach lightly and made me wince. "That's gonna leave a mark."

"Call me John then," he replied, as we slowly went over to join Holmes. "And yes- I'd agree on that."

We watched as Holmes knocked the hood off voodoo-man, revealing a calm face- obviously he had a plan then.

"Lord Blackwood," commented Watson.

"Sherlock Holmes and his faithful dog," replied the Lord, before looking at me. "A new friend of yours?"

Watson went forward as if to hit him, but Holmes shouted for him to stop and ran to held him back.

"Look," he said, and I tried to see what it was they were looking at- but couldn't see anything.

"How did you see that?" asked Watson in disbelief, and as I went up the steps I saw something glint in the light.

"Because I was looking for it," replied Holmes, bringing his nightsticks together where I had seen the glint and as I heard the shattering of glass I got an idea of what had been there. "I think the girl needs your attention more."

Watson went over to her, and I jumped slightly as I heard Lestrade's voice. I turned to see the police had finally entered, and I took a step backwards just as Holmes linked his arm with mine.

"So you and Watson are on first name basis know are you?" he asked, before speaking to Lestrade. "Inspector- we have one for the hospital, and one for the rope."

"I told you to wait for my orders," Lestrade commented angrily, but Holmes didn't seem bothered.

"If I had you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumour," he replied. "Besides, the girl's parents hired me- why they thought you'd need my help is beyond me." He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes whilst trying not to smile.

"That's not the only thing," I added coolly, and he raised an eyebrow. "You've done a fine job, sir." That comment was aimed at Lestrade, who was a bit bemused at that but puffed up slightly with pride.

"Yes, well done," agreed Watson as he came over. "The only thing Holmes managed was to drag Alex into danger again."

"You've got so close, so quickly," retorted Holmes, smirking slightly. "Fond of Alex are we?"

"I didn't say you could use my first name," I reminded the detective, and he pulled a face of mock hurt.

"Fine- Miss Alex then."

"You're not jealous are you, Holmes?" asked Watson, and before Holmes could reply he was interrupted.

"Smile, then."

I turned just as a camera went off, Holmes hiding his face just as quickly. Blinking as I tried to get the light out of my eyes I heard Holmes chuckle.

"Not even been with us for two days and you're already famous."

"Get lost, Holmes."


	6. Chapter 6: The Dinner Gone Wrong

I sat on my bed, lost in my thoughts as talking was heard in the next room- no doubt Watson was seeing one of his patients, whilst Holmes was doing lord knows what since he had dismissed the case of the night-time intruder because apparently if we did try to go after him we would be chasing a dead man. The discovery of the dead man, he said, was a message to us that the man who hired the man who hired those men was tying up loose ends. This was confirmed after Holmes sent an annoyed Lestrade to two other disused churches where the bodies of the other men were found having died of similar circumstances.

"Why have a man sneak into the house and stand outside someone's room for five minutes just to kill them before they can accomplish anything?" Watson had asked.

"But he did accomplish something," Holmes had replied, leaning back into his chair with fingertips pressed together. "He was sending us a message."

"What message? That he's to scared to do anything?"

"No. The message is that he's not scared to do anything."

Watson and I shared a look of confusion.

"You're not making any sense," Watson said with annoyance.

"No- you're not making any sense," retorted Holmes. "Why would he break into our house, leave us potential leads, break those leads out of prison and then have them killed if he was scared?"

"Which means what exactly?"

"Simple," began Holmes. "First, he sends someone into the house and has them stand for five minutes outside of someone's room. Why? Because he's telling us that if he wanted to take Miss Alex, he could and we'd be none-the-wiser. Second, he leaves some of his men around for us to capture and them breaks them out of prison, simply just a show of how powerful he is and suggests that he may have allies among the force. Third, the killing of those men, which serves a dual purpose of telling us that they are disposable to him and presents the possibility of once again having allies among the force- after all, why go to the trouble of breaking them out of prison to kill them when it would be so much easier to leave them in their cells."

A loud noise brought me back to the present, and I quickly got up and headed out of the room to see Watson had done the same, whilst Mrs Hudson was making quite clear she wasn't going in Holmes' room- obviously it was him firing the gun then. As if on queue another gunshot was heard and I moved to the side as Watson's patient came out of the room.

"It is! I can smell gunpowder!" he exclaimed, looking angrily at the doctor. "In a domestic environment- it's not right you know!"

"Don't worry, we'll sort him out," I commented, wondering if I could get Watson to help me lock him in a cupboard.

"Yes, why don't you get a cup of tea," agreed Watson, manoeuvring the man around to Mrs Hudson, who led him downstairs.

"Come along, Captain," said Mrs Hudson. "It's quieter downstairs."

Watson went to go in Holmes' room, and as I followed him he stopped once again, causing me to also run into his back.

"Mrs Hudson," he called, and the landlady turned back to him. "Bring something to cheer him up."

"The only thing that could do that is a case," I muttered under my breath and Watson rolled his eyes.

"An interesting one," he added, before walking into the room. "Permission to enter the armoury?"

"Granted," I heard Holmes say, and so we walked into the room. The closed curtains meant it was really hard to see, but I could just about make Holmes out- and the bullet hole initials on the wall.

"Are you a vampire now?" I asked, as I tripped on a book. "Practising your night vision?"

"As a matter of fact, I am in the process of inventing a device that suppresses the sound of a gunshot," replied the detective, seemingly annoyed.

"It's not working," I informed him, trying not to laugh as he dived of his chair with a shout as Watson opened the curtains. "Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

"Positive," he replied dryly as he crawled across the floor, shouting out once again when Watson opened the other curtains.

"You've been in this room for three months," Watson informed Holmes as he handed him the newspaper. "You need to get out."

I went over and took Holmes' seat, seeing as he was sitting on the floor and Watson sat opposite me, picking up a pile of opened letters.

"It's November?" questioned Holmes in confusion, staring at the front page.

"Yeah," I replied. "You've lost three months- perhaps you can investigate that."

He shot me an annoyed look and I feigned a look of innocence- no point trying to explain the joke because they'd obviously never had (or will, for that matter) seen Five children and It.

"How about this one?" asked Watson, reading out loud from the letter. " A Mrs Ramsey of Queen's park. Her husband has disappeared."

"In Belgium- with the scullery maid," replied the detective, not looking away from the paper.

Watson and I shared a look of confusion before he went back to searching through the letters.

"Lady Radford reports… oh, her emerald bracelet has disappeared."

Insurance swindle," replied Holmes. "Lord Radford likes fast women and slow ponies."

"Have you been investigating these or do you have psychic powers?" I asked with confusion, certain that Holmes hadn't been out of the house at all.

"I'm not a vampire," Holmes commented. "And I see you're the attending physician at Blackwood's hanging."

"Yes," replied Watson. "It was our last case together and I wanted to see it through to the end."

"Is it really that hard to tell if a persons dead or not?" I asked, and they looked at me in confusion. "Well surely it doesn't take much professional knowledge to tell if a man has a pulse or not."

"You're forgetting," replied Holmes with a grin. "That this is Scotland yard we're talking about."

Watson rolled his eyes before searching through the letters once again.

"A Mr Lewis is seeking…"He stopped as Mrs Hudson came into the room, carrying a tray in her arms.

"There's only one case that intrigues me at present: The curious case of Mrs Hudson- the absentee landlady. I've been studying her comings and goings- they appear quite… sinister."

"Says the vampire," I muttered under my breath. "Do you sparkle in the sunlight?"

"Tea, Mr Holmes?" asked Mrs Hudson, as he opened his mouth to reply, and he shot her an annoyed look.

"IS it poisoned, nanny?"

"There's enough of that in you already," Mrs Hudson replied, placing the tray down next to him and going to pick up the old one.

"Don't touch," Holmes snapped. "Everything is in it's proper place- as per usual, nanny."

"So charming," I commented sarcastically, Holmes opened his mouth to reply and was again interrupted by Mrs Hudson.

"He's killed the dog," She informed Watson. "Again."

Watson quickly went over to the dog, kneeling down as he felt for its pulse and I shook my head in mock shame at Holmes.

"What have you done to Gladstone now?" asked Watson, glaring at the detective, who didn't seem too bothered about the whole thing- just imagine what would happen if our RSPCA found out about this. They could use this as an example of how not to treat a dog when talking to amateurs.

"I was simply testing a new anaesthetic," replied Holmes as he stood up, adding, "He doesn't mind."

"Since when can you talk to dogs?" I asked him, whilst Watson seemed to be mentally hurting the man.

"Holmes, as your doctor-"

"He'll be as right as a trivet in no time," Holmes interrupted, and I wondered what the hell a trivet was.

"Is he a vampire too?" I asked, and as Holmes went to answer he was interrupted by Watson.

"As your friend," he replied angrily. "You've been in this room for two weeks- I insist you get out."

Holmes sat down in Watsons' chair, looking away with mock superiority.

"There's nothing of interest to me out there, on earth- at all," he replied, and I snorted- to which he replied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "What's in here on the other hand…"

If it had been anyone else I would have accused then of flirting with me.

"So you're free this evening?" asked Watson when he had stood back up.

"Absolutely," replied the detective as I glared at him.

Dinner?" he asked.

Wonderful- is Miss Alex coming?"

He looked at the detective in surprise before replying.

"If she wants," he replied, and I nodded- this might prove fun. "The Royale?"

"My favourite."

There was a small pause before Watson added;

"Mary's coming."

The look on Holmes' face was priceless, and I found myself wishing I had my phone with me so I could have took a picture… not that anything would have shown up.

"Not available," he replied, as though he had been asked to join Scotland yard.

"You're meeting her, Holmes!" Watson replied loudly.

Holmes' sulked before an idea sparked through his mind and he turned to the annoyed doctor.

"Have you proposed yet?"

"No, I haven't found the right ring," he replied, averting his gaze to the floor before looking back at the victorious Holmes.

"Then it's not official," he replied, slightly smugly.

"It's happening, whether you like it or not," replied Watson, making to leave the room. "Eight-thirty, the Royale- wear a jacket."

You wear a jacket," Holmes said to the closed door, back to sulking.

"So mature," I exclaimed sarcastically, and then groaned. "I just agreed to meet someone normal- can you use that new anaesthetic on me?"

He grinned as he went about pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Oh no- if I'm going to suffer then you can as well," he replied, and I rolled my eyes.

"You know how to treat a lady," I replied sarcastically and he raised the cup in a thank you. "Do you think Watson would forgive us if we never turned up?"

There was a pause as he considered it, and I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Tempting," he finally said. "But mother might ground us."

We chuckled slightly.

"Do you think Watson would forgive us if we turned up drunk out of our minds?"

He grinned at me,

"I don't know- perhaps we should test that theory out?"

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

Unfortunately, Holmes hadn't possessed enough alcohol to get us drunk- but we were both quite tipsy by the time we arrived at the Royale. Early, despite the fact we had spent over an hour arguing about whether or not Watson's surgery fluids were safe for human consumption- which inevitably led to another vampire argument.

I took the seat opposite him, noting that he seemed quite uncomfortable in this place and kept looking around the room before closing his eyes.

"Holmes," I heard a familiar voice say, and I watched Holmes open his eyes slowly. "and Alex. You're both early."

"Hello to you too, John," I said, staring at the empty plate, feeling quite moody.

"Fashionably so," Was Holmes' reply.

I turned to finally look at Watson and Mary, receiving a strained smile from the doctor- who could obviously tell that we'd been drinking.

"Allow me to introduce Miss Mary Morstan," he said, indicating the woman beside him- who was looking at my fancy dress with a frown of annoyance. But don't blame me- I only had my Adler-esque dress to wear for this… experience.

"Are you okay?" Watson whispered to me as Holmes spoke to Mary. "Have you been drinking?"

"We both have," I replied, and he looked at me with a mixture of worry, annoyance and disappointment.

"Please don't mess this up for me." He squeezed my hand gently, and I smiled back at him before we sat down in our seats.

"You must be Alex," Mary commented, looking at me with a somewhat forced smile on her face. "John talks quite fondly of you."

Holmes eyes flicked between the two of us as the tension between the two of us increased.

"Really?" I replied, and I saw Watson rub the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't have thought so seeing as I'm not one to take a doctors orders."

Holmes was smirking, but he soon stopped as Mary turned to him instead and engaged him in conversation- the fatal words soon leaving her mouth.

"What can you tell about me?"

Now despite the fact Holmes hadn't been doing any cases, he had received several visitors over the three months- and I'd seen enough of these 'interviews' to know that most people didn't appreciate the replies to this question in particular- especially women.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Watson interrupted, and Holmes agreed.

"Not at dinner," he commented.

"I insist," Mary said, and I resisted the urge to hurt her.

"You insist?" questioned Holmes, raising an eyebrow.

"Holmes- we talked about this," warned Watson.

"The lady insists," Holmes retorted.

"I insist that you don't," I interrupted, and Watson looked at me gratefully whilst Holmes glared in reply.

"Come one- what could possibly go wrong with his answering a question?" asked Mary.

"Trust me when I say this," I replied with a dry smile. "A lot."

"I'm offended by your lack of faith in me," commented Holmes, leaning back in his chair as he observed me carefully. "What could you possibly be jealous of?"

"Jealous?" I asked, glaring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't deny it," replied the detective smugly. "You've made a point of avoiding looking at Miss Morstan whilst you've been clenching your fists- and when you speak to her you do so with obvious dislike and assuming that you have indeed only just met that would conclude that you are jealous. But what could Miss Morstan have that you could be jealous of- a mutual acquaintance perhaps?"

"Holmes!" snapped Watson.

I could feel a strong mixture of anger and embarrassment welling up in me- he was just using me like some tool in order to put a rift in Mary and Watson's relationship. My eyes stung as tears threatened to spill, but under no circumstances was I going to cry or even leave- I wasn't going to let Holmes get to me.

Watson discreetly reached under the table and gave my hand another reassuring squeeze, whilst Holmes went to answer Mary's previous question- moving closer to her as he stared at her intently.

So this was why Holmes had wanted me to come- so he could use me as a way to leverage the happy couple apart. Although I'm pretty sure that a jealous woman would just make her grip on her man tighter- much like with Holmes' stubbornness regarding the marriage. Surely with his genius he could see that?

I broke out of my thoughts as Mary threw wine at his face, and I resisted the urge to tell her that I had told her so.

"Right on all counts, Mr Holmes. Except one," she said, clearly upset. "I didn't leave him- he died."

With that she got up and left- but not before shooting me a glare.

"Well done old boy," Watson said with a sigh before getting up and going after her.

Holmes made no move to clear the wine off his face, and so I slid into Marys' seat. I picked up the napkin and began to wipe the wine off his face as the waiters placed the food down.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, when they had gone.

"I don't know," I replied shakily, before brushing his hair with my bare hand. "To be honest I rather feel like hurting you- badly."

He took my hand and pulled it away from his face.

"Then why don't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know." There was a small silence as we stared at each other before he kissed my hand.

"I don't think Watson would forgive us if we turned up drunk," he said, and we chuckled before turning to the food.


	7. Chapter 7: The NightTime Intruder

Holmes walked into the ring with his nose bleeding heavily, still refusing to get it looked at and preferring to just go and injure himself some more. If you were wondering why his nose was bleeding, it was because after we had finished our dinner he had once again insulted me- so I punched him.

As I recall, he told me he was going to this place called the Punch Bowl and I had asked to go with him. He responded with some sexist remark and my already worn-out patience snapped, which resulted in his current predicament.

Men all around the ring were yelling at their favoured fighter, and I stood with my arms folded against my chest as several kept glancing at me. So I stayed well back to avoid any who might think themselves brave enough to try something. As it happened though, I was right next to the betting table- and an idea sprung to mind.

I walked up the staircase that I had seen earlier, and leaned over the banister to get a better view of the fight- or rather, a shirtless Holmes. Who might I mention seemed to be getting his ass handed to him- distracted by that white thing on the ring. He looked around the area, and I frowned before copying him and spotting something interesting- there was another woman here and she looked really familiar.

Drumming my fingers on the banister, I tried to remember who she was and several minutes later it hit me.

That was Irene Adler.

I watched her carefully as she spoke to one of the men before leaving, eyes narrowing at her appearance. From what I could tell of the second film, the two had romantic inclinations and from what I'd seen of her it was odd that this detective should love anyone other than himself.

Loud noises of protest caught my attention and I turned just in time to see Holmes' opponent spit at the back of his head- he had evidently been attempting to leave the fight. There was a momentary pause before he turned round and walked over to the white thing, picking it up to wipe the spit off the back of his head. Probably a handkerchief or something- perhaps belonging to that Irene Adler, which was why he was looking around like that.

I quickly ducked down as one of the people decided to look in my direction, unsure as to whether I was allowed on the steps and I stayed down until a voice caught my attention.

"Are you alright, Miss Alex?"

I looked up to see a sweaty Holmes leaning over me and felt myself blushing unconsciously at his closeness. He grinned at my obvious discomfort before taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. We then proceeded to go up the stairs, and I was led into what appeared to be an attic that resembled Holmes' room in regards of it's bomb-site appearance.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" I asked, going other to look out the window onto the darkened street. There appeared to be a fight going on between two groups of men, and a lone policeman was attempting to stop it without much success.

"Obviously they were counting on the other man winning," Holmes commented, as he leant over my shoulder to see what I was looking at. "The ones being attacked being the ones who told them that- close call though, he nearly did win."

"So you won then?" I asked, the heat off his body warming me as his chest pressed against my back. "I thought you quit."

"I tried to- but our friend had other plans and decided to spit on me," replied the detective. "Normally I would have just ignored him- but I'd used that card against you when you punched me in the nose."

"I used that card against you when you insinuated I was jealous," I informed him coolly, resting my forehead against the dirty glass. Now more policemen were joining in and I could see one of their carriages trying to get through. "Besides- what about the wine incident with the soon-to-be Mrs Watson?"

"She left before I could decide what course of action to take," he retorted with a chuckle. There was a pause before he spoke again. "I'm guessing that you didn't take kindly to my plan of action."

I spun around to face him, confusion on his face as anger flared up inside me.

"Plan?" I hissed. "Holmes, all you managed was to embarrass John and I whilst making Mary hate me and making her more possessive of John- do you not know anything about relationships?"

He studied me carefully, and I was aware that we were so close to each other- so much so I swear I could feel his breath on my face. My heart was racing at my sudden outburst and I knew that I couldn't say much about relationships and that I was only going by guesswork.

"I'm afraid I don't follow your pattern of thinking," he replied slowly, after a while. "Surely if a woman believed that her fiancé was being unfaithful to her she would call of the engagement?"

"Perhaps- but Mary doesn't think anything happened," I snapped, fists clenching. "She thinks that I'm just some girl who has a crush on her fiancé and the only thing she'll do is keep a tighter leash around his neck."

He smiled slightly at the leash reference, resting his arm on the wall as he leaned his head on it, and suddenly he was only inches away. My anger forgotten, I watched him carefully as I tried to remind myself that although there was a hot, half-naked detective extremely close to me that he was a total dunce when it came to relationships- as just proven- and probably had no idea as to how I felt to having him this close to me.

"You said Mary 'doesn't think'- the phrasing suggests that something did happen between you," he said with a smirk. "Care to tell?"

"Nothing has happened between us," I replied coldly, glaring at him as his smirk grew wider. "So you'd better stop smiling before I remove it by force."

I raised my hand to hit him, but he grabbed it before I could and rested it against his cheek, his own covering mine. He was still smiling, but there was something different about the look in his eyes that suggested a kind of sadness.

"Forgive me," he said quietly and I just blinked in surprise. "I am in the process of losing one good friend- I do not wish to lose another."

"You're not losing him," I replied automatically, feeling uncomfortable about the situation. "I'm sure that a boring domestic life doesn't appeal to him as much as the fun of helping an eccentric detective solve crimes."

There was a small silence, and I cleared my throat.

"Besides- I would hardly call myself a good friend," I added, looking at the dried blood under his nose.

"I disagree," he replied. I found myself wondering if he had moved closer, because his eyes seemed to be filling up my vision. "I disagree greatly."

His other hand went to my cheek, and my heart raced as he leaned in closer.

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

I found myself wondering if Alex was alright as I headed back to Baker street, and also wondering whether Holmes had realised the mistake he'd made yet- not likely, but one could hope. Although secretly I was also wishing that she could hit him- all I ask him to do is meet my fiancée and he ends up doing more harm than good. As a result, I'd had to repeatedly promise to Mary that nothing was going on between Alex and I, and apologise for his insulting her during his deductions. It was good to know that Holmes insisted on showing off even though I had warned him against it- he even decided to turn up under the influence of alcohol, Alex as well.

The carriage came to a halt, and I paid the driver before climbing the stairs and going to unlock the front door. But as I looked for my keys I noticed that the door hadn't been closed properly and my guard was immediately up. Pushing the door open slowly, I peered through and checked there were no intruders before entering. All the lights downstairs were off, but there appeared to be a light coming from the direction of Alex's room.

I crept up the stairs, listening intently as I watched the half-open door for signs of movement. When it was apparent there was none I stepped into the room and looked around in surprise. It was apparent that Alex wasn't and her whole room had been turned upside down- draws opened, clothes across the floor and sheets among sheets of paper lying across the bed, fluttering in the breeze brought through the open window.

I ran over to the window and peered out, and when it became apparent no-one was in the area I closed it and called out to Mrs Hudson. Picking up the paper, I found myself looking at a mixture of writing and pictures- mainly doodles of all sorts and the writing itself was usually scribbled out, what was left appeared to show an attempt to deter boredom. Although one piece just had the words 'I'm bored' written across it in a variety of styles and sizes.

"What's the matter- good heavens, what happened here?" exclaimed Mrs Hudson as she appeared in the doorway.

"There's been another intruder, Mrs Hudson," I informed her, giving the room one last glance over. "Has Holmes come back?"

"Not that I know of," replied Mrs Hudson. "I haven't seen him or Alex since they left to have dinner with you."

I could only think of one place where Holmes could be- the Punch Bowl, and I felt annoyed that he would dare take Alex there. It wasn't an appropriate place for a young woman such as herself.

"Contact Lestrade and get him to come over immediately ," I told her. "I'll fetch Holmes and Alex."

As I left to do as such, it occurred to me that perhaps Holmes had been wrong to leave the case of the intruder alone- because this might be linked and as such could have been prevented. But it also occurred to me that perhaps Alex was hiding something important from us, and I shook that thought out of my head.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

When I arrived, I wasn't surprised to find Holmes and Alex there- though I was slightly confused as to why he was playing music to a glass jar containing flies. Alex was staring out the window, eyes glazed and a slight frown on her face which indicated her being lost in her thoughts- she had a blush across her face and didn't appear to notice my appearance, which brought my attention to the dishevelled man attempting to serenade flies.

He did notice my appearance and looked up at me with some surprise- I noted that his nose appeared to be swelling slightly.

"Watson?"

Alex broke out of her thoughts and looked at me with a nervous smile, before saying her hello.

"Right, let's go," I said to the two- but Holmes wouldn't have any of it.

"What started merely as an experiment has brought me to the threshold of a monumental discovery," he explained, and from the way Alex rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance she'd heard more than enough about this.

"Holmes- this is more important," I began, but he still didn't listen and I picked up a bottle from which I had guessed he had been drinking. "Plus you do know that what you're drinking is meant for eye surgery?"

Again, the detective ignored me and went on to explain his experiment whilst Alex came over to join us.

"Now, if I play a chromatic scale there's no measurable response," he began, plucking at the violin. "But now- and this is remarkable- if I change to atonal clusters- voila, they fly in counter clockwise, synchronised concentric circles."

"Holmes there's been another break-in," I interrupted before he could continue, and they both looked at me in surprise.

"Our old intruder," Holmes stated, rather than asked, his eyes flicking to the side as his min went racing.

"Yes- this time they got into Alex's room though- and they appeared to have been looking for something," I added, and the detective turned to look at her before back at me. I noted that something must have happened between them due to her nervous reaction.

"Well- we'd better head back then and get looking immediately," commented Holmes, but he didn't look like he wished to leave his flies. "After all, we don't want you late for the hanging- do we?"

"Speaking of which," I began. "You're Lord Blackwood's last request."

"Aren't I honoured?" He asked sarcastically before shooting a grin at Alex, who averted her gaze slightly. "You will be accompanying us to this show?"

"I've got nothing better to do," she replied.

"Most excellent," Holmes said with another grin, and I found myself wondering if I should even bother telling him that it wouldn't be his best idea to take a young woman to someone's hanging. "Now let's solve the mystery of the night-time intruder."


	8. Chapter 8: The Silence

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

Watson placed his hand on my shoulder as we entered my room; I later learned that I had made a distressed noise upon seeing the state of my room and it didn't surprise me. Holmes had dashed ahead as usual and now he, Lestrade and Clark were searching through my room for clues- an act which made me feel like they were intruding on my life. All of my things were thrown everywhere, nothing was missing apparently but it still made me feel sick- these were my things that someone had gone through.

"Let's get you something to calm your nerves," Watson said to me, and he led me out of the room. "Wipe your eyes." He then handed me a handkerchief, and I wiped my eyes as tears threatened to spill.

"Thanks," I muttered, handing it back to him and trying not to pay attention to the sympathetic look he was giving me.

When we got downstairs; Mrs Hudson was already preparing drinks and she fussed over me whilst Watson remained with me instead of going back to join Holmes. Soon Mrs Hudson left, leaving me to drink the dreadful drink known as tea and mentally cross my fingers.

"I know now is not the time," Watson began. "But what happened between you and Holmes?"

I blushed automatically at that, remembering back to the incident and knowing there was no way I could discuss it with him.

"_I disagree," he replied. I found myself wondering if he had moved closer, because his eyes seemed to be filling up my vision. "I disagree greatly."_

_His other hand went to my cheek, and my heart raced as he leaned in closer._

_I couldn't move as his face brushed against mine, his lips coming to rest against my ear and his chest was pressed against mine- the sensation of his heartbeat making me gulp._

"_Am I making you nervous, Miss Alex?" he asked, lips tickling my ears and hot breath heating my skin._

"_What gave you that idea?" I asked, and I felt him grin. "What?"_

"_Who wouldn't be?" he replied. "I'm not an expert on relationships, Miss Alex. But I'm fairly certain that only intimate couples are comfortable with being this close to each other."_

"_So why are you this close to me?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_You make it sound like I should know."_

_Every time he spoke I could feel the vibrations from his chest._

"_Well, you did it," I retorted._

"_Yes- but one sometimes does things that they themselves cannot explain," he replied. "Take for example this." He kissed my ear gently and I pushed him away, looking at the formally stoic detective._

"_I blame the alcohol," I told him, and he smirked before walking away._

"_Do you?"_

So I instead opted to tell him an alternate stream of events.

"Well, he was being really annoying," I mumbled. "So I sorta, might have punched him in the nose."

Watson chuckled,

"Well he definitely deserved it," he replied, leaning forward slightly as he did so. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm going to beat the living daylights out of whoever did this," i replied, then added; "And like I could really use some sleep round about now- don't want to turn up at the hanging like this."

"There's not much time for that- but I don't think it would be advisable for you to go."

As if on cue, Holmes burst through the door with his usual energy and grinned cheerfully at us.

"Come on you two- we've got a hanging to go to! No point keeping the dead waiting."

"Holmes-" began Watson, but he was cut off by me.

"It's fine, John- I want to go," I informed him, and he gave me that doctor-style look that said everything he hadn't, whilst Holmes just raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather not be on my own."

His face softened, but he still didn't look like he was convinced- and there was no way I was admitting that I was scared or that I'd rather be with them than any other person here. But somehow I think Watson knew, and he relented- albeit somewhat unwillingly.

"Fine," he said.

"So is your little tiff sorted out?" asked Holmes, as Lestrade entered the room. "So was it there?"

"No," replied the inspector with a shake of the head. "It wasn't in any other place either."

"Most peculiar," commented Holmes with a frown. "I was quite certain…Anyway- let's get moving."

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

I was woken from my sleep by the sound of Holmes' voice.

"Look at those towering structures," he commented, and I looked across to him with annoyance. I then sat up as I realised I was lying against Watson. "It's the first combination of bascule and suspension bridge ever attempted- most innovative."

"Shut up, Holmes," I growled, before leaning against the side of the coach and closing my eyes once again.

"What an industrious empire," he added, so I kicked him the leg. "Do you really need to do that?"

"In one word- yes," I replied with a yawn. "Every time you open your mouth I hear kick me."

Watson chuckled, and I could only imagine what Holmes' reaction was.

"Oh, I have your winning from last night," Holmes said, and I half-opened my eyes to see Holmes holding out Victorian style money to the doctor. "You weren't there, so I made your customary bet."

Watson reached out for the money, but Holmes quickly pulled it back and replaced it.

"No, you're right," he said. "I'll keep it with your cheque book, locked safely away in my drawer."

Watson looked annoyed, and I hid a smile at their childishness.

"The opera house is featuring Don Giovanni. I could easily procure a couple of tickets if you had any… cultural inclinations this evening."

Watson didn't reply, but kept his gaze on the detective.

"You have the grand gift of silence," commented Holmes. "It makes you quite invaluable as a companion."

His reply was to punch Holmes in the nose, which made me jump as well and left the detective somewhat annoyed as he held his handkerchief up to his nose- although it didn't appear to be bleeding.

"Is everyone out to hurt me?" he asked.

"I knew she'd been engaged," Watson said, and my tired mind took several second to figure out he was talking about Mary. "She'd told me."

"Behave yourselves, boys," I mock warned the two, sitting up properly and stretching slightly.

"Fine, mother," Holmes commented sarcastically and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you want me to kick you again?"

"I'd listen to her if I were you, old boy," Watson told the detective, trying not to laugh. "She's already punched you in the nose."

"So you knew that but you hit me there anyway?" Holmes sniffed and turned away from us. "I think she's a bad influence on you."

"Says the one who kills Gladstone every other day," I retorted.

"He hasn't died once so it would be impossible to kill him every other day," he pointed out, and I rolled my eyes.

There was a small silence, then Holmes spotted the waistcoat between Watson and I. He quickly grabbed it, but not before Watson grabbed it and as such a tug-of-war ensued much to my amusement.

"That was my waistcoat," Watson said.

"I though we agreed it's too small for you," Holmes retorted.

"I'd like it back," responded the doctor.

"I thought we agreed-"

"I want it back."

"Boys," I warned, and eventually Holmes relented, releasing the item of clothing. Watson smiled before chucking it out the window, Holmes glared at us as Watson tried not to smile- failing- and I laughed behind my hand.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

The shots of a loud could be heard I while before we actually arrived at the prison, and I peered out the window to see what the problem was; whilst Holmes made himself more presentable. A large crowd had gathered, some holding signs and it soon became apparent it was all some sort of superstitious nonsense.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door was opened by a policeman who didn't appear happy about the whole thing.

"This way, Mr Holmes," he said, and the three of us got out and looked at the protesting crowds around us.

"Blackwood certainly seems to have got the crowd into something of a fear frenzy," commented Watson as he shut the door behind us.

"Which I'm certain will disperse once his feet have stopped twitching," remarked Holmes, and a mental image of the proceedings ran through my mind. "Care to come along?"

"No, you're on your own, old cock," replied Watson. "I've no business with him whilst he's alive."

"Suit yourself, mother hen," Holmes said. "What about you Miss Alex? Care to join me in my meeting with Blackwood?"

I weighed the options- I could stay with Watson and miss what may be a very important conversation between Holmes and Blackwood, or I could hang out with a murderer and a man who previously invaded my personal space.

"I'd rather not," I replied, and Holmes gave a stiff smile before heading off with the policeman. "So what do we do?" I asked Watson. "This isn't going to take long is it?"

"No," replied Watson as headed into the quiet of the prison. "Because as soon as Holmes is done talking to Blackwood you're going back with him."

"No objections there," I replied with a yawn- suffering time alone with Holmes would be worth it when I found myself in bed. Thoughts of the break-in crossed my mind, but I knew I could trust everyone to look after me and if I did get kidnapped they would find me. After all, although Holmes is a childish, arrogant and machine-type man- he was the world's only consulting detective.

We stood in the entrance, the quiet of the inside reflecting against the noise of the outside.

"Just a guess- but shouldn't a prison be noisier than this?" I asked Watson, and he looked down the hallway as if expecting the answer to appear.

"It should," he replied, checking for any nearby police officers. "Especially considering who their star guest is." He stopped a nearby officer- who looked just as nervous as the one who had led Holmes away.

"Why is it so quiet in here?" he asked.

"Because that Blackwood- he cursed one of the other officers, and it was like 'e was being burned from the inside out," replied the nervous man. "'Course the other prisoners were terrified so we 'ad to 'ave them moved, sir."

"So only Blackwood's here?" I asked with surprise. "No wonder he wanted to see Holmes- must be so lonely."

"What do you mean when you said he was burning from the inside out?" asked Watson.

"Well 'e was writhing with pain on the floor and clutching as 'is throat," he replied, shuffling slightly. "Thank lord we got there soon enough- 'e's lucky to be alive."

"Did you have a doctor check him?"

Now the officer looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Well no sir- 'cause doctors can't beat magic, sir."

"Who says it was magic?" Watson pointed out, and he dismissed the officer, waiting until he was gone before speaking. "My guess is there was nothing wrong with him- we just have people still believing in superstitions."

"So you think he was faking?" I asked, and Watson nodded. "Why would he do that?"

"Bribery?" he guessed. "Although if he was hoping that this would spare his life he was quite mistaken."

Holmes came up at that moment, seemingly deep in his thoughts and we had to call out to him in order to make him notice us.

"Ah, Watson and Miss Alex- what brings you into this lovely place?" he asked, smoking on his pipe. "I trust that I didn't keep you waiting too long?"

"Not at all," replied Watson, who seemed a bit concerned by Holmes' thinking. "Just had an interesting chat with one of the guards."

"Oh really? Blackwood had something interesting things to say as well," remarked Holmes, placing his hands in his pocket. "Still, we'd best get back and we can get some sleep."

That last part was directed at me, and I nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied.

So soon we were heading back to Baker street, silence between the two of us and only the occasional glance at each other gave the impression that we recognised the other presence. Even when we did get back, he didn't say anything and went straight into his room.

"He can be like that sometimes," Mrs Hudson had explained to me. "He'll remain silent for hours on end – even days when he's on a case."

I in turn went up to my room, closing the still open window and putting everything back in its proper place before changing into my night clothes- which now consisted of my combat trousers and a shirt I had stolen from Holmes.

I lied on the bed, hands behind my head as I thought carefully through the events and tried to come to some conclusion as to why this was happening. But the answer never came to me, as seconds into it a strong hand placed a cloth over my mouth and a strong odour overpowered me and knocked me unconscious.


	9. Chapter 9: The Missing

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

I don't know how long she had been gone before we noticed- but I was annoying Holmes about his visit Irene Adler regarding a missing ginger dwarf- midget. He was going on about how she was working for someone- a professor apparently- and that he intimidated her. Clarke had then come in with a message for us;

"Mr Holmes?" asked the policeman, holding his hat in his hand.

"Clarkey!" Holmes said cheerfully, pulling away the bowstring he had previously been holding in my face.

"Sir, Inspector Lestrade asks that you come with me at once," explained Clarke.

Holmes moved to hold the bowstring in both hands and point it in front of him.

"What's he done now? Lost his way to Scotland Yard?" He turned to me as we both grinned. "Watson, grab a compass- 'you' means 'us'."

"No- 'you' means 'you'," I replied, shooting him a warning look.

"It's Lord Blackwood, sir," added Clarke, looking quite anxious. "He, uh…"

Holmes returned his gaze to the officer.

"Well, it appears he's come back from the grave, sir."

Holmes replaced the bowstring, placing his fingertips together as he leant forward.

"Most engaging," he commented, and I felt more than a little annoyed.

"Very clever," I replied. "I pronounced the man dead myself."

Clarke nodded, and I could tell how this whole affair was affecting him.

"What are the facts?" asked Holmes.

"Groundskeeper claims he saw him walking through the graveyard just this morning, sir."

"I'll leave this in your capable hands," I informed Holmes, having had more than enough of this and I walked over to the nearby table. "I have an appointment with Mary."

"It's not my reputation that's at stake," Holmes commented and I turned to face him, leaning back on the table.

"Don't try that," I warned him and he turned his attention back to Clarke.

"Have the newspapers got wind of it yet?"

"Well that's what we're trying to avoid, sir," replied Clarke.

"Certainly," agreed Holmes. "What's the main concern?"

"Panic," Clarke replied, gulping. "Sheer bloody panic, sir."

"Indeed," Holmes agreed once again.

"You're not taking this seriously, are you Holmes?" I interjected, and he looked at me again.

"Yes- as you should," he replied, and I made a noise of disbelief. "It's a matter of personal integrity- no girl wants to marry a doctor who can't tell if a man's dead or not."

I was about to retort to that when Clarke spoke once again.

"Begging your pardon, sir. But will your young lady friend be joining you?" We both looked at him with surprise, and he looked down quickly. "It's just that Lestrade wished to know how she was faring with you."

That last part was directed at Holmes, who didn't look pleased at what this was insinuating.

"Where is Alex?" I asked Holmes, realizing that she hadn't come in once during the while I'd been here. The detective shrugged nonchalantly;

"To be honest I haven't given her much thought recently," he replied, and I rubbed the bridge of my nose before we headed off to her room.

"You're never going to find a girl, old boy," I informed him.

"Why would I want to?" He retorted, and as we reached her room I knocked on the door.

There was no response, so I knocked again and again no response.

"Alex, are you in there?" I called out, and with no reply again I called out to Mrs Hudson.

"What's the matter?" she asked when she appeared.

"You haven't per chance seen Miss Alex since we came back. Have you, nanny?" asked Holmes, and Mrs Hudson replied with a shake of the head.

"I'm afraid she hasn't come out of her room at all," She said, before heading back downstairs as I and Holmes shared a look.

The detective walked past, opening the door to reveal the room empty- things tidy, but with a singular piece of paper left on the bed.

Holmes picked it up, staring at it with a stoic face and then showing it to me and Clarke.

_She's with us now- X_

**/*/*/ Alex's /*/*/**

As I came to, my mind felt clouded and I swear I could feel it pounding along to my heartbeat. Opening my eyes, I found myself in a cellar-type room with only a couple of large candles to light it up. There was also the faint odour of lavender, mixed in with some more metallic smell which brought to mind a ritual-type scenario.

I sat up quickly, eyes darting around frantically before remembering that Blackwood would be in his grave now- even thought that brought little comfort to me. I had been kidnapped- I had been kidnapped from right under Holmes' nose. How long had it been? Were they looking for me? And would they ever find me?

"So you're awake now, luv?" The amused tone of the voice sent shivers down my spine, fear reaching up as I turned to face the man who had spoke.

With a start I realised it was the man who Holmes' had been fighting in the alley- the one who he though would be dead like the one we had found in the church. A man in his early thirties, a boxer by the looks of things- with short blond hair and a moustache/beard combo that made him look like some cartoon villain.

"I wouldn't try anything- you may have a fast fighting-style, but I'm willing to bet my friend here is faster than you, luv." He indicated to the handle of the revolver sticking out from under his jacket.

"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my own tone calm and level. "If you're expecting me to tell you anything about Holmes then-"

"Holmes?" asked the man with a laugh. "We already know enough about him- and his doctor friend as well. No, what we want is to make Holmes suffer- let him know that whatever he does he won't be able to stop the pain."

"And what does that have to do with me?" An idea was beginning to form itself in my mind, but I shoved it away in a half-hope that it wouldn't be true.

"Well, no doubt Holmes will be looking for you, and we are going to let him." I must have shown my confusion because he chuckled darkly. "He'll find you running free through the hallways where you'll tell him that you're behind him all and that you lured him down here to kill him."

"And why would I do that?" My voice was beginning to shake now.

"Because you'll gave a gun aimed at your head the entire time- one slip-up, one false word and you'll be dead faster than you can blink, love. We've already got you a little story to learn so that he'll be convinced at your guilt- and of course you'll have to shoot him if you want to save his life."

"I have to kill him to save his life?"

"I said shoot- in the arm preferably, then you'll go quietly to the gallows- knowing that if you try to talk we'll have Holmes, the doctor and his fiancée and a few more acquaintances shot."

"How does this make him suffer?" I asked, feeling fear course through me as I struggled to find a way out of this predicament- where was Holmes when I needed him?

"Holmes seems to have taken a high interest in you- and after your little interaction at the Punch Bowl it would be foolish to think that he didn't regard you highly. Of course, there was the doctor- much likely to be a closer friend- but it's him who will be pushing Holmes into finding you and as a woman you are at a higher risk in the view of these gentlemen." He watched my expression with some amusement, as I realised the truth of it.

"So… I do as you say, and you won't harm any of them if I do this?" I asked, realising how hollow my voice sounded.

"I cross my dastardly black heart," he replied, drawing a cross over his heart with his fingertip.

So my options were to either get myself and everyone I've come to know killed, or just myself killed and have everyone thinking I'm a criminal for the rest of my short time on earth- and afterwards. It was hardly a choice at all- but I knew what the better choice was, and if it came down to it I'd follow it through to the end.

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

Holmes, Lestrade and I sat around the table, the piece of paper staring mockingly at us whilst Holmes placed his fingertips together and stared at us through half-closed eyes. Lestrade didn't look too happy about this whole affair, although he could have also been upset about his actions regarding the Blackwood affair and the finding of Adler's dwarf- midget- in his coffin.

Holmes had insisted on going after saying that this was far more puzzling than our friend's disappearance and that she could no doubt look after herself. Only after much arguing did I manage to convince him to follow through with this case rather than search for Riordan's house.

"Now let's have the facts," said Holmes. "There is a lack of struggle which suggests that she either went with them willingly or was drugged before she was able to notice their presence- the note itself presents kidnapping as the reason for her disappearance and the fact that he shoes are still here denotes being drugged."

"Someone must have noticed people carrying a drugged woman out of a building," Lestrade protested.

"Exactly, but if they were to pretend to be doctors and say they are escorting her to a nearby hospital- which they did, as our witness stated."

"What witness?" I asked, and Holmes raised an eyebrow at me.

"The cabbie who drove them to said hospital," he replied. "I've had the Baker Street irregulars on it, they overheard this man talking about how strange an affair it was since they didn't actually go into the hospital but rather to the building next to it- Walker's hotel it used to be, until that incident with the waiter, the rat poison and the trumpet."

"So they're in this hotel?" Lestrade asked. "Seems simple enough."

"It does- until you consider the fact that when the cabby contacted the nearby officer it was reported to be completely empty with no signs of anyone having ever been inside," pointed out Holmes.

"A secret room?" I suggested, whilst Holmes merely frowned.

"Perhaps- but don't you find this rather simple?" he asked.

"Simple?"

"Yes, they're making no attempt to cover their tracks- they even took a cab." Holmes said with annoyance- as though he was annoyed with the kidnappers for being so obvious . "They manage to kidnap her from right under nose and then make an error like that- it is likely that this is some sort of trap."

"For who?" asked Lestrade.

"For me," he replied. "It seems as though I was wrong about our escapee prisoners being dead as well- a description of the two men gave me reason to believe that it was the man whom I fought and the actual intruder himself."

"So you were wrong?" asked Lestrade, seeming amused by the fact.

"Can we please focus on finding Alex?" I asked, patience already worn thin- although any other time I'd have joined Lestrade.

"We can do that after we've neutralised the trap," replied Holmes. "Plus we need to focus attention on who is the mastermind behind this."

"Holmes- you're talking about wasting time which could be used to save her," I protested. "Finding Alex is more important than finding your criminal."

"Not true- because Miss Alex is one person, and if we don't find the criminal then others will go the same way as her."

"She's our friend!"

The two looked at me in surprise, my own anger catching me unawares as well and I took a deep breath before speaking.

"Holmes, this isn't like your other cases- this one is personal," I continued. "If it were you in danger, Alex and I would put finding you as our top priority. So why can't you for once show some humanity and consider that one of your few friends could be in mortal danger."

There was an uncomfortable silence, before Holmes picked up the piece of paper and sniffed it.

"Has a musky smell- no doubt she's kept somewhere underground," he began, and I sighed in relief.

Don't worry Alex- we'll find you.


	10. Chapter 10: The Reunion

"Judging from the thickness of the paper," continued Holmes. "It's most likely used for a typewriter, and if you hold it up to the light you can see the Walkers hotel crest- it's a well known fact that this particular hotel used to be a writing materials manufacturer who changed to hotel business after a significant loss in investment. The underground stores were therefore bricked up- which may be where they were hiding, if it weren't for the fact that the officer reported them to be still bricked up. However, what is less well known is that the loss was the result of a scandalous affair which involved a smuggling operation- smuggling murderers throughout the city via a network of tunnels which led from their basement."

"I don't remember that," I commented with a frown.

"You wouldn't- you were away fighting in Afghanistan, and I remember this because it proved to be a most interesting case. Though I must admit that I only recalled it because Lestrade here remembered those particular events."

"It was a ghastly affair- resulted in the deaths of eighteen individuals before we could stop them completely," Lestrade explained. "Who knows how many more it would have been if Holmes hadn't been around to help."

It must have been really bad if Lestrade was admitting to that, and I felt even more worried- what if it was murderers who had Alex? I couldn't allow myself to rest whilst she was in danger.

"So where did those tunnels lead to?" I asked, and Lestrade sighed.

"Everywhere- they joined onto the sewers as well," he replied. "So anywhere you can find an entrance to the sewer, plus buildings with cellars where these tunnels were connected to. So that's most of London, the question is where to begin? I can't spare much power as we have to sort out this Blackwood affair before the press gets wind of this."

"Well- the major clue is Walkers hotel- Watson and I will investigate there," replied Holmes. "I would suggest you send men around to any abandoned warehouses or businesses which would make better prisons."

So it was that Holmes and I headed down to the abandoned building, the suspense eating away at us as we wondered what was happening to Alex- or at least I was, but I could see from Holmes' eyes that he was at least a little worried about our friend. Sickness rose in me as I remembered all the bad things that had happened to women on our previous cases- sure Alex could fight, but a good gun could be better and they wouldn't hesitate to hurt her.

Arriving at the hotel, I looked at the crumbling building which did little to take the weight off my chest. Boarded up windows, ivy climbing up the walls which were crumbling in some areas and tiles off the roof lying across the ground- it looked like not even rats would stay here. Walking up to the front door, which hung haphazardly on its bottom hinge in a half-open manner that invited us in to its dirty interior.

"No-one's been here indeed," huffed Holmes, pointing to several marks on the floor. "Aside from the officer himself, it is quite clear that five other men have been through here- and as this footprint indicates, the intruder himself was one of them- so I was right."

"Holmes," I said with a sigh, and he looked at me before following the tracks across the floor.

"Two of the men didn't go any further- no doubt the mastermind and his right hand man," continued Holmes. "The other three continued on."

I followed him as he headed through into a room that apparently used to be a kitchen- flies circling rotting vegetation and a horrid smell filling the room. I waved my hand in front of my nose in order to dispel the odour, whilst Holmes didn't seem particularly bothered and continued through another door which led into the food cellar.

"Here we should find a way into the old cellar- and we do," Holmes commented with a chuckle as I followed him down. "Obviously Scotland Yard officials have never heard of a lever being disguised as a wall lamp before."

He pulled down on the light, and I watched as the wall swung open to reveal what looked like an underground crossroad with three tunnels leading off in different directions. Each of these tunnels had an image over them, recently drawn in blood whilst a word on the floor read 'SALT' and the images were a bird of some sort, a cat and a rat.

"A puzzle?" I asked, wondering what- or whose- blood that was.

"Yes- apparently our friends thought it would be good to leave clues," replied Holmes, moving to stand in the centre of the room. "Too bad they made it so easy."

"Easy?" I asked, looking at the each of the floor things in turn. "How is this easy?"

"Naturally-surely you as her doctor have seen the mark on the back of Miss Alex's left shoulder?"

As I tried to remember back, it hit me with a start.

"The tattoo of the bird," I commented, and he nodded. "What does that have to do with salt?"

"A raven on the back of her left shoulder- the place being of importance," he explained. "As with the belief that if you spill salt you must throw a pinch over your left shoulder as a way to keep the devil away when you're in an especially vulnerable moment. That combined with the coincidental fact that the bird itself is a representative of death is a warning for us."

"It's lucky we saw that then," I replied.

"Indeed," replied Holmes thoughtfully. "But it can't be luck or coincidence- they must have assumed we knew as we were the closest to her; and it would also suggest that they didn't want any police interference."

"So they set up a puzzle that only we could know," I finished, and he nodded in confirmation.

"The question is how did they know we would know this?"

"_What's this?" I asked, and Alex blushed slightly as she reached to touch the bird._

"_Just a little something I got on holiday," she replied with embarrassment. "I thought it looked good."_

"_It does- but not entirely an appropriate thing to have on a lady, is it?" asked Holmes, and I watched her pull the front of the dress up subconsciously at the detectives gaze. "So how's the shoulder then?"_

"_Bruised- but no serious damage," I replied, once again pressing slightly down on the skin surrounding the bird and nodding in satisfaction when she didn't show any signs of being in pain. "She should be fine in no time- although I'm willing to bet that jaw is going to come up with a nasty bruise."_

We headed off down the tunnel, I taking one last glance at the blood bird before focusing all my attention back on finding Alex.

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

I held my hand tightly over the wound in my left side as my captor led me back to my room after using my blood to mark the tunnels with a series of clues he said that Holmes and Watson could not fail to guess correctly. Though whether that was a threat or an actual truth escaped me, and I felt my heart going numb at what was to come.

"It will be time for your big performance soon," chuckled the man as we sat down in our usual places. "I hope you've learnt your lines well."

The lines which planted the blame for all of this squarely on my shoulders- and the guilt of knowing what this might do to Watson ad Holmes. They would never forgive me for this- and I would go to the gallows in shame whilst the misery of this whole thing followed me to the grave.

"Just remember- old Hawkeye will put a bullet between your eyes if you even hesitate," continued the man, and I flinched at the memory of the scar-faced man who silently patrolled the various corridors and sewers.

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

We were solving the puzzles with some ease- well, Holmes was, and it was worrying when we encountered no-one. I was also worried about the blood- we both theorised that it could belong to Alex, and at the amount present we couldn't have long before she passed out from blood loss.

"Sith will be cat," Holmes said as he dashed through the next room and down the right-side tunnel. I didn't question him, knowing that time was of the essence and I followed the sounds of his echoing footsteps. What happened next I didn't expect. "Alex!"

At the sound of his surprised shout I ran even faster, and stopped beside him as we stared in surprise as the figure who had emerged from the next rooms central tunnel.

"Hello boys," she said, her voice shaking. One hand was clasped to the bleeding wound in her side, the white of the top clashing with the scarlet liquid and her pale face showing how much pain she was in. Her eyes reflected a kind of defeated attitude, and Holmes regarded her with confusion. "You took your time."

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

They were looking at me with such surprise- even happiness in Watson's case, and I felt my eyes stinging as I continued to speak- lest I wish Hawkeye kill all three of us.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up."

"We weren't just going to abandon you," Watson replied, shooting Holmes a look as he watched me thoughtfully.

"You should have," I said hollowly. "It would have been better for you."

"What do you mean?" asked Watson, but he didn't wait for my answer. "Come on- the sooner we get out of here the better, and we'll need to get your cut sorted out."

"No."

Watson looked in surprise, looking at Holmes who had a stoic look on his face but made no attempt to speak.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Did you not think it was suspicious that your house should be invaded the first night I stay and that nothing was taken or touched? That a person would come in and spend five minutes just standing around?"

"What…" I could read the slight suspicion and fear in his eyes, and any other time I would have been glad that he did genuinely care about me.

"It was me."

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

No words could describe what I was feeling at that moment, and my mind was silent for a moment before a torrent of questions burst through which I struggled to say. Holmes was more considerably calmer than I, and was the first to get a proper sentence out.

"Why are you lying to us?"

It was her turn to be surprised, and she replied too quickly- in obvious fear.

"I'm not," she replied, visibly shaking and tears coming to her eyes. "You would do best to leave- I wouldn't want to be forced into harming you."

"Let me guess- you were forced into taking the blame under threat of death, so you chose to be the coward and lie in hope of having our spare you life," Holmes said coldly, and I watched the tears stream down her face.

"It wasn't just my death," she replied, and then her eyes widened in fear.

Confusion quickly gave way to horror as a loud bang echoed through the room and Alex fell to the ground with blood pouring everywhere. Just as quickly Holmes put out his revolver and shot out, whilst I ran over to Alex.

The bullet had gone straight through her back- just missing her spine, and as I rolled her over I saw she was still conscious- barely. Her glassy eyes watched me, and I set to work stopping the bleeding as best as I could at the moment.

"You'll be okay," I told her, as her eyes closed and she faded into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11: The Candle

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

"_Are you coming to see it?" asked Kadyn, leaning across the desk. "Everyone else is going."_

"_Of course they are," I replied, copying something out of the Biology textbook before me. "That is exactly why I'm not going."_

_She groaned, collapsing across the desk in a dramatic manner before propping her head on her elbows- I ignored her though and continued with my work. The teacher may not have been here, but I had no intention on suffering his wrath next lesson._

"_Talk to me," she said in a singsong voice. "Come one- don't be such a geek."_

"_As hard as it is for you to believe- you have to work to get good grades," I replied. "I want to go to university, and so I need these good grades. Doing one lesson of work doesn't make me a geek."_

"_I prefer not having a higher authority looking over my shoulder." This made Kadyn laugh, and I looked at her questioningly._

"_You sound just like him," she giggled. "Holmes that is."_

"_Are you comparing me to a fictional detective?"_

"_Well you both disregard the rules- and you have that fancy way of speaking… so yes!"_

_We stared each other down, before she shifted her gaze._

"_Come on," she continued. "If you come watch Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows with me I won't ever bug you again. You can't be this antisocial for the rest of your life."_

"_I can try."_

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

What events followed that fateful shot can be summarised as such; the shot that Holmes fired wounded the other, and after interrogation we found the other mans location- but he had escaped. Lestrade was contacted, the wounded gunman arrested and Alex was immediately rushed off to hospital. What Holmes did after that I don't know, but he turned up at the hospital eight hours later with blood down the front of his shirt.

"How is she?" He asked, as he took he sat next to me on the other bed that occupied this room- the previous patient having died of a stab wound to the throat.

"Not good," I replied hollowly. "The bullet missed her heart by a mere fraction, but she still suffered severe damage to several major veins and arteries, the bullet hit a rib and might have also punctured her lung- they can't say for sure yet. The wound in her side is also fairly deep, so the main concern is blood loss and to put it simple she was bleeding in so many places they're not sure they managed to stop the bleeding quick enough."

"I'm sure she'll pull through, "Holmes said. "After all- don't they say that those with a strong will to survive can make it?"

"Only the quacks," I replied, and we both chuckled nervously. "Let's hope they're right."

"Indeed," agreed Holmes. "I was hoping Miss Alex could give us more details as to the case on the intruder."

"Is all you care about the case?" I asked angrily, and he looked at me with surprise. "Alex is most likely going to die on us and all you can think about is the case?"

"Well worrying about her is hardly going to improve her chances of survival is it?" he asked.

"Holmes!" I shouted, and he looked in confusion whilst I resisted the urge to hurt him. "Can't you show at least a little concern about her!"

"John?"

I turned to see Mary in the doorway, and I shot Holmes a warning before going over to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, placing her hand on my arm. "I heard what happened to, Alex. How is she?"

"Not good," I replied, and she looked at me with a mixture of sadness and what appeared to be pity. "It could go either way- but one in particular seems more likely."

"How about you come with me John, and we'll get you back to Baker Street," she said, and I shook my head numbly. "You need some rest."

"I agree," said Holmes, walking over to the two of us. "Miss Alex will be given the best treatment, and I'm sure she wouldn't want you ruining your health over her. I'll stay with her and keep you informed on any… developments."

I looked between the two of them and sighed in defeat.

"Fine," I replied and then turned to Holmes. "You had better, Holmes."

"I will."

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

"_I can't believe I agreed to do this," I said, staring at me reflection with disgust. "I hate dresses."_

_Lupin and Luna- the two cats who were audience to my misery just returned to cleaning themselves, and I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. Secretly I was wondering if I could do the whole 'does this dress make my bum look big?' joke- but as Kadyn had so often informed, I have no sense of humour._

"_Though I suppose it would be interesting to see if this man is like me," I continued, smoothing out some wrinkles. "Shame he isn't real though- we could have had so much fun together."_

_I picked up my phone from the arm of the chair as the message alert went off._

'_Going 2 Subway b4 film- want 2 come?'_

"_Not in this dress," I replied out loud, as I texted back. "And even so I'm not going to a place where they make so much fuss over a sandwich."_

_Lupin meowed to me, and I raised an eyebrow as I turned to him._

"_Do you really think so?" I asked, and sighed. "I guess you're right."_

**/*/*/ Holmes' POV /*/*/**

I stood beside the bed, looking down at Alex's pale face and wondered what I was supposed to do now. The mixture of emotions that had come with her being shot had gone with the death of her captive- at the hands of my revolver. A puzzling series of events that had be wondering about what influence this mysterious woman had over me.

"If you don't survive, then I'm afraid that Watson would be most… displeased," I commented, before checking her pulse. "Faint- but steady."

I then returned to sitting on the opposite bed, head in my hands as I let out a sigh and ran over the various outcomes that this could end in. Most of them decidedly unpleasant, all with the same outcome- death, and the worst part was that even with my intellect I couldn't help her.

"Will your mysteries ever be solved? Or will the answers leave with you?"

The mystery of Alexandra La Reina Vargas- one of the greatest mysteries that I have ever had the fortune to come across and I would not like it to end like this- without knowing anything about your past, without knowing about how you came to be in my care and without knowing what it is about you that stirs the emotions I had locked away for so long.

"Don't die… Alex."

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

Watching memories from my old life, forgetting everything about my time with Holmes and slowly sinking into an eternal sleep. Voices calling out; quiet, loud, quiet- a pattern, and quite a nice one. Two voices, then three, then one, then two, then one, then two- going on forever and ever. Voices but no words. People but no faces.

What's going on? I'm so confused.

"_Sherlock Holmes at your service, miss."_

"_Why do I get a feeling you're going to turn out more stubborn than Holmes?"_

"_Do you think Watson would forgive us if we turned up drunk out of our minds?"_

"_Such an unusual fighting style as well- oriental if I'm not mistaken."_

"_I disagree. I disagree greatly."_

"_That or they saw how interested you were in her."_

"_Don't worry, as your doctor I'll check up on you regularly."_

"_Am I making you nervous, Miss Alex?"_

All going, all fading away like the light of a single candle- flickering quietly in the corner until it dies out completely.

**/*/*/ Holmes' POV /*/*/**

A doctor comes out of the room, looks at me and shakes his head gravely- the sign of a light going out.

"We're losing her, Mr Holmes," he said and at that moment I feel doubt, disbelief and a strange numbness. "She's lost to much blood- we're repairing the veins and arteries as best as we can, but her body's lost a substantial amount of blood loss and she's slowly dying. Fortunately her lung wasn't injured, but the bullet lodged behind a broken rib and we are worried that an attempt to move this could do just that."

"What about a blood transfusion?" I asked him, and he once again shook his head.

"We don't have enough blood stored to-"

"Use mine," I interrupted, surprised at myself. "I've not much need for it anyway."

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

"_You need to grow up and start living in the real world!" shouted father, picking up one of manga books. "This trash isn't going to get you a job!"_

"_It's not trash!" I replied, hand balled up into fists. _

"_It's a book full of pictures- you might as well just give to a child! You need to focus on your College studies so you can get into university!"_

"_I know that!"_

"_I don't think you do- it's time for you to get a reality check!"_

_**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**_

"_Isn't fanfiction what those fat guys in their thirties do because they've got no life?"_

_I rubbed my temple as Kadyn looked at me expectantly._

"_Obviously no."_

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"_What do you think happens when you die?"_

"_You get buried in a hole, and if you're lucky people will cry over your corpse."_

"_So charming."_

"_It's not meant to be charming- it's death."_

"_Don't you believe in the afterlife?"_

"_After life it's death."_

"_Very funny- but seriously, don't you?"_

"_Do you?"_

"…"

"_I believe that if I were ever to ever find someone willing to cry over my corpse I'd be lucky."_

"_You do –you've just closed your eyes to the light."_

"_The only light I ever saw was a candle flickering in the distance- and now it's gone out."_

**/*/*/ Holmes' POV /*/*/**

Outside the room once again, feeling dizzy and faint after going through that- I just hope that it will help Alex. But if you don't have the will to live then what good can all this do? She was quite upset during her kidnapping- But I'm sure she hasn't lost her will to live. She's too strong for that.

Lestrade popped by earlier to check on her, told that now the whole city knew of Blackwood's revival and that a building was burned down which may have had some connection to Riordan. That's evidence gone down the drain thanks to this whole distraction- how can I hope to find evidence when these problems keep happening.

"It's nice to see you do have some humanity in you," Lestrade had commented. "I thought you'd be investigating Blackwood's magic trick."

"I would be- but I promised Watson I'd keep him informed on her progress," I had replied, leaning back against the wall. "Miss Morstan was quite insistent that I do him this favour."

"So you don't want to be here?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you do?" He had looked at me in confusion. "Which one is it?"

I didn't have an answer to that- I still didn't have an answer to that.

Two more hours passed before the doctor emerged from the room again, considerably more blood covered than he was before.

"How is she?" I asked, and he looked down at the ground before taking a sigh and looking back up at me.

"We've repaired all the arteries and veins as best as we could, so she's no longer losing blood and the bullet was extracted without any immediate danger to her; we've stitched her back up and the blood transfusion appears to be successful," he replied. "The only problem now lies in infection—and I'm afraid that the knife wound in her side has become infected."

"Infected?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. It looks like a bad one, and in her state I'm not sure she has the strength to survive it."

That sensation of disbelief was back, and I knew that Watson would have to be told which didn't bode well as he was so… attached to her. He had often claimed she was like a sister to him, but I'd always suspected it was more- a trait which would have helped with my plans.

"How much longer?" I asked, dreading the answer.

He shook his head,

"I couldn't say for sure," he replied. "But I'd say she'd be lucky to last a week at this rate."


	12. Chapter 12: The Talk

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

I was still dying- only now I was awake and enduring the pain which had hidden from me in sleep. An infection had set in, I was told and I had developed a high grade fever to which every attempt was being made to halt. Watson had placed himself in charge, and I awoke to him giving out orders to another doctor and Holmes. Mary was standing in the doorway with an upset face, and it was she who noticed my awakening first.

They had been so surprised, but we had been unable to talk as Watson had told me it was better that I rest rather than speak. I doubt I would have been able to anyway, as I felt extremely weak and cold- the whole room appearing to sway. But I tried my best not to make them worry, not letting it show through too much and clenching my jaw against the pain in my side as Watson went about dealing with the infection.

"How's her temperature?" asked Watson in a professional manner, even though I could see the worry in his eyes.

"Still rising," replied Holmes. "But at a lower rate than previously."

The detective replaced the damp cloth on my head, and sent me a quick smile.

"Is that a good thing?" asked Mary.

"It appears to be remittent fever," replied Watson, and the other doctor looked at him sharply.

"You suspect something?"

"Yes- infective endocarditis," replied Watson. "I listened to her heart and she appears to have a murmur- as well as Osler's nodes on her feet and hands. Anaemia is another symptom which we can include- even though she's had a transfusion. We'll need to start administering antibiotics into the intravenous route if we want to beat this."

"How long?" asked Holmes, and Watson didn't reply. So he looked up at the other doctor, "Care to answer?"

"Usually the drugs are administered from between two to six weeks," he replied, and Holmes looked at Watson in surprise.

"Bu what about the Blackwood case?" he asked. "Are you to continue assisting me on that?"

I could have sworn the doctor looked quite frightened at the mention of Blackwood's name- so much for doctors being sensible. Thinking back to earlier, I remembered Watson saying something about a transfusion- I didn't know they had transfusions, I just hope it wasn't some recently hung criminal whose blood is in my veins. That would be creepy- actually, just having anyone else's blood in my veins was creepy.

"Alex is still my patient," Watson replied calmly. "I can't leave her when she needs me most."

"She will have the best treatment here I'm assured," Holmes stated. "She will manage quite fine without you."

"And you can manage quite well without me."

Watson stood up properly and turned to face Holmes, and I could have sworn you literally could have cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. The other doctor excused himself, and even Mary looked reluctant to get involved- because it's more than a childish argument when lives are at stake.

"I can't do this on my own," Holmes said, and Watson rolled his eyes.

"Yes- yes you can Holmes, you solve everything yourself and just drag us along for the ride," he replied angrily. "Why don't you get Miss Adler to help you out- she's certainly smart enough."

"Miss Alex already has doctors looking after her- why do you need to be here?"

"Why did you need to give her blood?"

There was a momentary silence, and I was shocked- Holmes had given some of his blood to me? It had been him?

"I did what was necessary- the doctors didn't have the blood so I supplied it," he replied as though it were obvious. "And I'm quite sure that this hospital already has doctors- unless I'm mistaken."

"Doctors who failed to notice infective endocarditis- which might I add is fatal in one in every four people."

"That puts the odd in her favour-"

"No Holmes- one in a thousand or even in a hundred puts the odds in her favour! One in four is a high risk when it comes to peoples lives."

Again another silence; and I must have fallen asleep because next thing I know it is dark and only Watson is here, wrapping fresh bandages across my side.

"Why are you still here?" I asked weakly, and he looked at me with a smile plagued with tiredness.

"Shot through the back where you suffered damage to several major veins and arteries followed quickly by infective endocarditis, broke a rib and had to undergo careful surgery to remove bullet which risked puncturing the lung, a stab wound in the side which also suffered from infection and massive blood loss to top it off?" He chuckle and finished with the bandages. "You're at high risk of dying, and I'm staying to make sure you don't."

"At least I keep you on your toes," I replied, and he shook his head. "Is it really true that I've got the blood of that insane detective in me?"

Watson sat on the bed, placing his hand on my forehead.

"Yes- he was quit insistent on the whole procedure." He removed his hand, but stayed by my side. "How are you feeling?"

"Contrary- I'm pretty much cold all over, but my side and chest feel like they're burning," I replied. "Plus I'm exhausted and I ache all over. How are you?"

"Also exhausted," he replied. "I've been looking after you for a while- something Holmes isn't quite pleased with."

"I noticed," I replied, then lifting my hands saw what looked like red lumps.

"Osler's nodes," explained Watson.

"Osler's nodes? Sounds like someone with a cold," I remarked, and he chuckled. "Not the kind of thing you want to die of."

"You're not going to die," Watson replied firmly, and he held my hand. "The fact that you are awake now and talking to me gives good proof of that."

"Anything can change it though, can't it?" I asked, he didn't reply but his gaze said it all. "I mean I heard pointy-beard doctor say I'm going to be here between two and six weeks, and I'm pretty sure that's sufficient time to die of boredom."

"'Pointy-beard doctor'?" Watson chuckled.

"What? It looked like he had a spear sticking out his chin," I retorted and he laughed even more.

"If you say so."

I pulled his hand towards me and looked at it carefully.

"I've always wondered why men don't have engagement rings," I commented vaguely, then looked up at his face. "Have you proposed yet? Holmes was telling me that you haven't."

Watson rolled his eyes.

"Not yet- I can't find one I like," he replied.

"I'm sure you'll find a really good one soon," I said, letting go of his hand and covering my mouth as I yawned.

"Asleep all day and you're still tired? That's a sign for you to be getting some rest." Watson did a quick check up before leaving the room so I could fall asleep.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

"Sir Thomas Rotheram was discovered dead in his bathtub, presumably by this 'black magic'," I heard Holmes say. "The only thing missing was his ring, which I was told bore the insignia of the ox- he was apparently a member of the Temple of the Four Orders."

"So what does this have to do with Blackwood?" Watson asked. "And why were you found naked and handcuffed to Miss Adler's bed?"

I almost burst out laughing, and I hoped that I hadn't smiled- I waited patiently until they spoke again.

"Judging from his ears- he was Blackwood's father, although I hardly think that's important as the ring was taken. He must have needed the ring for something, something to do with this big scheme of his."

"What scheme?"

"Oh come now Watson, you don't come back from the dead for fun- he obviously has something bigger going on."

"You ignored my question about the whole being handcuffed."

"It's irrelevant."

"Holmes- does this have something to do with why Blackwood wanted to see you before he was hanged."

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because you seemed very preoccupied with what he said." Watson's tone had grown angrier with Holmes' replies.

"Well you're not helping me with the investigations so I hardly think it's relevant for you."

Footsteps were heard, and judging from the noise of the cane it was Watson who had left. A dip in the bed indicated Holmes' had sat down on the bed, almost on my arm, and he proceeded to tap me on the head.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep now," he said, and I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a stoic face, pipe in mouth and eyes shining. "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."

"It's rude to ignore people's questions," I replied calmly, painfully sitting up and ignoring the raised eyebrow as our shoulders touched. "Did you really give me your blood?"

"Well I can't have you dying on me," he replied, and then coughed. "It's nice that you're still with us- It means that I will still have someone to investigate my cases with me, even if you do have to spend a while in this dreary place."

"So you think I'll survive this then?" I asked, indicating to my person. "With two holes in me that are both infected?"

"If I didn't I wouldn't have said it."

On a sudden impulse, I leaned in towards him and kissed him on the cheek, stubble brushing against my lips.

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause, I blushed heavily and I could have sworn that some colour went to his own cheeks. I would have sworn this had it not been Holmes that I was talking about.

"That was… interesting," he commented, touching his cheek lightly. "I wouldn't have thought you grateful of me after I got you in firing range."

"Well I can hardly blame you for being you," I replied with a shrug, wincing at the pain it caused. "Besides- you shot the man who shot me; I think that stands for something."

"Even though I called you a coward and accused you of caring only of your own life- when you were clearly protecting ours as well?" His gaze turned sad, and I swallowed against the mixture of feelings that had welled up inside me.

"I think I can forgive you for that- I mean I've been stopping you from the Blackwood case." I laughed, but it was hollow. "I wouldn't want to get In the way of your investigations."

"That's good to know," he replied. "But don't worry, the investigation is going ahead just fine- even with these setbacks."

"Nice to see which is more important to you."

Confusion, followed by understanding and then something akin to sympathy. He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, and I met his gaze with a strong defiance.

"You are important to me- but how can I help you if I can't find the theory behind all of this madness?"

"By showing that you do actually care about me- even if only a little," I replied, and I rubbed a rebel tear from my face. "Even if you're just pretending."

"How do I do that?" he asked. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand your needs."

"Well for starters you could ask me how I am," I replied, my hand moving to cover the one on my shoulder. "You could ask me if there is anything I need, or just sound like you're concerned about my wellbeing."

"I am concerned about your wellbeing," he replied.

"Only because I'm interesting to you as a case- not as a person."

He sighed, taking his pipe from his mouth before bringing his hand up to stroke my cheek.

"I am interested in you as a person," he replied. "I'm interested in what it is about you that does this to me- makes me want to laugh with you, to help you when you're sad, to stay close to you, to touch you. I am not known as a man of relationships- ask Watson- but I would have it no other way, and I'm sure Watson would agree that it wouldn't be the same without you. I thought that I was fine with just Watson, but then came you- a person who is so similar to me in personality, but so much more emotional. A woman who is eccentric, childish, stubborn, intelligent, beautiful, loyal- a woman who stands out of this boring society and is proud to do so, and now you tell me if that proves that I care about you as a person?"

I stared in mute surprise before I leaned in and kissed him on the lips, my free hand resting on his chest as his free one moved to my hair. He kissed back with a passion, and we both pulled back as we stared at each other in surprise.

"See what I mean?" he asked, pulling his hand from my shoulder and moving it to my back. "I can't explain why I'm doing this- but I'm doing it anyway."

"Shut up, Holmes," I said, before kissing him again.


	13. Chapter 13: The New Case

Four weeks passed before I was in well enough health to leave the hospital and return to Baker Street. Watson was now properly engaged and living with Mary at Cavendish place, whilst Holmes had dealt with the Blackwood case and diverted a major disaster. He took great relish in explaining how he now had an enemy who was on equal footing with himself. He never referred to our… experience that night, and I found myself wondering if the outburst of passion from the man had been a result of the strain put on us. Though I hoped that he had secretly enjoyed the kiss, I knew not to expect any sort of relationship from him in the romantic category. In fact the closest we had come to that since then was when he had personally examined the new scars on my body-a two inch gash on my side, a hole in my back, and a three inch gash between my breasts from the surgery to remove the bullet.

But now, with Christmas on the horizon, Holmes was being more stoic than ever- the only emotions shown being distaste towards the holiday he dubbed as 'a waste of time'. Although according to Watson he usually said much worse, and I was wondering whether it was the incidents involving the bombings that caught his attention- bombings which no doubt meant the second film was on the horizon.

"Nanny!" I heard Holmes shout, and shared a grin with Watson as we followed the detective up the stairs. We had just returned from 'kidnapping' Watson, leaving a very annoyed Mary and time for Mrs Hudson to do a little decorating.

Sure enough, as we walked in to his room we were greeted by Christmas decorations spread around the room and everything had been moved ever so slightly to accommodate these- as well as the tree which stood in the corner. It gave the room a very festive feel, and Holmes looked around in horror.

Naturally Watson and I were very amused.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" asked Watson; taking off his coat as he looked around.

"No! I would show you what I intended if it weren't for the fact it has been moved," replied Holmes angrily, trashing everything once again in his attempt to find whatever it was he wanted to show Watson. I myself had no idea what it was, but half-suspected it was something to do with the visitor he had the other day.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?" I asked him, as we watched Holmes make his way around the room in a frenzy as he searched on. "I've been back for little over a day and quite frankly I think I preferred the hospital."

"You can tell how much he cares about us," Watson replied with a chuckled and we went over to sit on the sofa. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," I replied with a smile. "Still hurt a bit, but it certainly beats how it first was. How are you and Mary?"

"We're fine thank you," he replied, picking up the discarded newspaper. "Though she isn't happy about Holmes' dragging me away."

"I wasn't even aware we were going to get you until we actually got there."

"He tends to do that." Watson leafed through the pages, whilst I watched Holmes' rampage with a mild interest- although it wasn't until Mrs Hudson arrived in the room did it become annoying.

"What did you do, Nanny?" Cried Holmes, searching through a stack of books- or a pile, as it was turning into. "I can't find anything- where is that letter?"

"This place needed a bit of Christmas spirit," Mrs Hudson replied defensively. "I was assured my Miss Vargas that it wouldn't be of any consequence."

I put on a mock innocent face as Watson and Holmes looked at me, raising my hands in the international 'woah!' position.

"Don't blame me," I said as Mrs Hudson took her leave.

"Thanks to you my work is ruined! Countless experiments lost, and all my research lost!"

"Drama queen," I commented, and Watson chuckled, leaning over to me.

"Did you really tell Mrs Hudson it was okay?" he asked. "More to the point, why did she ask you?"

"She didn't," I replied in a conspirators whisper. "I asked her if she could decorate it- whereby I told her that Holmes was okay with it."

I checked to see Holmes hadn't been listening before turning back to Watson and winking, to which he rolled his eyes and went back to read the paper.

"He's going to find out- in fact he probably already knows," commented the doctor, and I leaned backwards with an evil grin. "What now?"

"I know that- which is why I already had the liberty to take my revenge against his revenge," I replied, and Watson looked at me in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I filled his room with baubles," I replied with an evil laugh. "But don't ask where I got the baubles from- let's just say that the hospital staff were glad to help me out."

He raised an eyebrow, and we both smothered our laughter as Holmes' discovered all the baubles in his room, arranged in pretty patterns around the walls. With all the help I got from the Baker Street Irregulars it had been done with ease whilst we were kidnapping Watson.

Eventually Holmes found what he was looking for and came over to join us, though he appeared to be still annoyed at this. So I decided that perhaps it would be best not to talk about it, and –after sharing a look- Watson and I listened to the detective as he sunk back into his chair.

"Earlier today I received an unusual visitor, as Miss Alex will remember," he started, placing his fingertips together. "He was a butler to Lord Jacobson I believe- and he was to hand-deliver this letter to me, which shows how important it must be."

He showed us the letter, and I leaned forward slightly to read it.

'_A most horrific tragedy has occurred. Cook under my employment poisoned_ _and threat of worse if continue with Christmas ball. Come as soon as possible and bring doctor friend- Lord Jacobson.'_

"Doesn't give many details," commented Watson. "We don't even know if the cook has died or not."

"The fact they mentioned my 'doctor friend' would confer the latter." Holmes took the letter back. "Although it could be the former seeing as they haven't come here in spite of the significant amount of time passed."

"So we go and investigate then- at wherever he is," I commented nonchalantly, hoping the homes of lords weren't common knowledge to people.

"Warburton Hall," replied Holmes, and all I could think to say was did they make bread- but I had a feeling they wouldn't get it. "Inherited from his stepfather, Lord Warburton- It's not as big or as fancy as most places, but it has quite a history and has been the sight of one or two rather interesting murders."

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I didn't know how big or fancy a Lord's house usually was, but if this was one of the worst then the best must be a work of art. The building itself was wedged between a large bakery and what appeared to be a bank- and it was at least six storeys high with a length that probably rivalled Baker Street. Large windows with fancy framework were dotted across the white brickwork and the large doors were a dark brown that looked fairly new. Owing to its location there was no front garden, but on either side of the stairs leading up to the front door were black statues that resembled lions with one paw outstretched.

"Not very big at all," remarked Watson, who sounded as disbelieving as me- it was huge, it was almost ridiculous how huge it was! And to top it off, it was next to a bakery- how ironic.

"Lord Jacobson is the joint head of a major clothing firm- which, as you can imagine, is a very profitable business. As such he is quite well off, which meant he was able to by Warburton Hall and have it expanded to allow him to host these rather flamboyant balls- it was originally only a third of its current size," explained Holmes, expressing distaste at the idea of balls. "The actual ballroom itself takes up most of half the ground floor."

"It looks like it should be some sort prison or elite academy," I commented as we approached the front door. "Why does someone need so ridiculously big a house? Must make a brilliant place to play hide-and-seek."

"It certainly would take up a bit of time," agreed Watson with a chuckle, whilst Holmes smirked ever so slightly. "But I wouldn't imagine it would be much fun if you got lost."

"If getting lost worries you Watson I'm sure there are maps available," Holmes informed him, and he tried to maintain a professional look as a pompous looking butler answered from the door. It was the same one who had come to Baker Street, and he still didn't look like he wanted to be near us- although that could have been our unprofessional conduct on a crime scene.

"Mr Holmes," he began. "Do come in, his Lordship is awaiting you."

He stepped out of the way, allowing us to come in and I looked at the entrance hall with surprise. It was as big as Hogwarts, but much fancier with patterned marble floors and paintings adorning much of the wall. A red carpet covered the large staircase, and one might imagine that if someone wanted to make a dramatic entrance that this would be how- it looked like it could be the setting for Cluedo.

"This way." We followed the butler as he led us to a door on the right, Watson and I falling in step as Holmes walked just behind the butler, who was going on about the incident in that posh accent the world imagined we all spoke in. "It was dreadful sir- Matilda was an old friend of mine, and ever so sweet a person. We were just celebrating her wedding anniversary with a glass of Victorian wine that his Lordship has imported directly from Australia- he always the staff to try out the drinks before he presents them to the guest- when she starts to behave in a drunkenly manner; staggering about, slurring her words, flushing quite badly- we didn't think anything was wrong until she collapsed to the ground with her whole body shaking and before we could find our senses she was dead."

We walked through the doors to find ourselves in a much smaller, but still as fancy waiting room where the butler instructed us to wait as he fetched 'his Lordship'. It felt wrong to sit down on the deep red sofa and so I stood next to the fireplace and folded my arms, waiting as Holmes studied the items on a nearby table and Watson leant, deep in thought, against one of the arm chairs.

"What do you think about this poison, Watson?" asked Holmes, peering inside what appeared to be an oriental vase. "Perhaps you have an idea as to what it may be?"

"I haven't been given enough detail on the symptoms," Watson replied, staring at the floor as though it would inspire him. "However, I think I dealt with an incident like this a few weeks ago back at the clinic- in a fight of jealousy a woman had laced her husbands afternoon tea with nightshade, and even though I gave him a good dose of activated charcoal it was still to late to save him."

Activated what? Was all I could think, and then wondered who would do something as awful as poisoning someone- being poisoned must be so painful and horrible.

"Indeed," agreed Holmes, putting down the presumably expensive vase and coming over to stand next to me. "_Atropa belladonna_ is a very nasty plant- most of the plant is deadly with the ingestion of a single leaf generally being fatal to the average adult, an ingestion of between ten and twenty berries is also fatal and the root itself is also generally toxic. A truly remarkable plant which has been overused when it comes to murdering ones spouses- as I'm sure Lord Jacobson remembers."

I looked at him in confusion and I went to ask him what he meant, but was interrupted by the return of the butler and 'his Lordship'.

"I'm glad you could make it," said a voice which showed the stress it had been put under, and I looked at the Lord- who was not at all what I had been expecting.

He couldn't have been any older than his mid-thirties, and to cut an explanation on his appearance short- he looked like Johnny Depp, except with moppish blond hair and a small scar on his chin. I, who had been expecting some pompous fat bloke was thoroughly surprised and more than a little guilty-feeling about my prejudice, but only for a little bit.

"I am at my wits end!" he proclaimed as he walked into the room, slightly taller than the good Dr Watson I noted when he shook hand with Holmes. "I have heard tell of your work on the Blackwood case and would be at easier at rest if you were to take the case rather than leaving it in the hands of Scotland Yard."

Holmes didn't say so, but Watson and I could tell he was mildly flattered by the mans words.

"It seemed like a case that would arouse my curiosity," replied Holmes stoically. "So it seemed in my best interests to come and investigate further."

"And thank you for doing so," replied the Lord, before looking at Watson and I who stood either side of the detective. "I'm assuming that these two are colleagues of yours."

"Yes, this is Doctor John Watson," Holmes said, and Lord Jacobson shook hands with Watson. "And Miss Alexandra La Reina Vargas."

"Such an exotic name," commented Lord Jacobson, sweeping up my hand in order to kiss it. "And such an exotic beauty."

I was caught off guard by the compliment and blushed slightly, noting the surprised look on Watsons face and the slightly annoyed one on Holmes.

"If we can return to the case," Holmes interceded. "I'm afraid that Dr Watson must be returned to his fiancée before long."

Lord Jacobson cast one more look at me before nodding and indicating for us to follow him.

"I will take you to Mrs Stroud's body- then to the kitchen."

We followed him up the staircase, the butler going through a different door- but not before giving us a final scowl.


	14. Chapter 14: The Sign

I waited outside the room with Lord Jacobson, not all that eager to see another dead body, and listened intently as I tried to pick up snatches of the conversation between Watson and Holmes. I couldn't pick out any whole sentences, but I did pick out the occasional word such as 'nightshade' or their names as they told of their findings to the other. After what seemed like an age, the two emerged from the room and reported their findings to us.

"Just as we thought," Holmes said. "It was nightshade poisoning- although it looks as though someone tried to cure her after her death."

Lord Jacobson coughed nervously and shuffled slightly.

"I have always made sure to keep activated charcoal around the house since my wife was poisoned six years ago," he explained nervously. "I was worried that I might be targeted next, and so I never mentioned it to my servants- perhaps if I had she could have been saved."

"Perhaps," agreed Holmes. "But it would be better if we could focus on what did happen rather than what could have happened."

With a nod, Lord Jacobson led us back to the waiting room where Watson and I sat either side of Holmes on the sofa as he took the chair opposite. It felt like we were a jury, readying to hear the evidence of the accused- and Holmes was a scrupulous judge.

"Who was present at the time of the murder?" he asked, and we watched the Lord Jacobson calm himself before replying.

"Maxwell Turner- who is my butler and whom you've already met, Miss Isabella Crowe and Miss Eudora Fisher- assistants in the kitchen, and finally Gideon Wilson who is a waiter," he replied. "They stay overnight so as to prepare breakfast and wake me up; the other staff didn't arrive till later."

"How many people do you employ in total?"

"Well I currently have seven other kitchen assistants and five other waiters- as well as four maids." He looked down at the floor thoughtfully. "Yes, unfortunately we had to let of Maxwell's younger brother after an incident involving one of the maids."

"Incident?"

"Just a little romantic quarrel," replied Lord Jacobson dismissively, moving his hand as if to brush the subject away. "Nothing of any importance."

Looking at Holmes, I could see that he didn't appear to think that- and I was inclined to agree with him. For all we knew it could have everything to do with this case, but we had to reluctantly drop it as Lord Jacobson gave a look that made it quite clear he wouldn't be pressganged into divulging any information on that given subject.

"Where were you when this was taking place?"

"I was in my room eating breakfast," he replied. "I do prefer to have something to eat before I am forced to get up."

It was obvious we weren't going to get anymore out of him that was relevant to the case- so we instead opted to speak to the witnesses of this crime, starting with the butler- who still didn't drop his 'holier than thou' attitude as he took his masters seat. But seeing as he had already given us a brief narrative, he didn't have much to add- and neither did Miss Crowe nor Miss Fisher. In fact it wasn't until we got to Mr Wilson that anything vaguely interesting happened- when we asked him about Maxwell's younger brother.

"You mean Luther?" asked the squinty-eyed man, who was probably in his early forties. " Maxwell and 'im never got along- probably 'cos Maxwell was all posh-like and Luther was more like 'is dad."

"Do you know about this 'romantic quarrel' then?" asked Watson.

"You mean that fight 'e 'ad with Lord Jacobson paying special attention to Miss Simons? Course- everyone knows it, we just 'ush up about it so we can keep our jobs."

"Then why are you talking about it?" asked Holmes, regarding him carefully. "None of the others seemed to know anything about it."

"You keep such pretty company, Mr 'olmes," replied Mr Wilson, flashing us a grin which showed nasty teeth. "Surely someone who keeps such a pretty lady around can be trusted with this?"

I naturally felt repulsed at this, but tried not to let is show on my face as Holmes gave me a quick sideways glance before leaning back into the chair.

"That's an interesting statement," he commented. "What, might I ask, gives you that impression?"

"Well I 'eard how you're the only consulting detective in the world- So I was wondering as to why three of you turned up," explained the man. "Then I 'eard Maxwell saying as to 'ow your friend 'ere is a doctor- but that leaves the mystery of the lady, 'cos I'm fairly certain she ain't no detective or doctor."

"And what exactly are you implying?" asked Watson, seeming fairly annoyed.

"I'm not implying anything," chuckled Mr Wilson, crossing his legs and leaning back. "I'm just wondering what the merits are of keeping such a pretty, young lady around."

"She is a colleague of mine," replied Holmes, in a serious tone. "So I suggest you drop with the vulgarities and answer our questions."

"Why should I?"

I could sense that this wasn't going anywhere, as could Watson seemingly- but Holmes wasn't one to give up easily and pursued the subject relentlessly.

"You should answer us because it is in your best interests to do so," he replied, then leant forward slightly. "Unless you want to consider yourself a suspect in this case."

"I've already spoken to the peelers- if you want answers then go the them."

In the end we found it was useless to pursue this any further so instead, after Holmes had a final conversation with Lord Jacobson, we took a cab back and made to drop Watson off first before Holmes and I headed back to Baker Street- but not after a bit of news.

"You're doing what?" asked Watson in disbelief, looking at the detective who sat next to me. "Why are you going to France?"

"I have something else to take care of," replied the detective vaguely, smoking his pipe now that we were free of Warburton Hall. "I can trust you two to act in my place, can't I?"

"So you're going to go gallivanting of to France, leaving Alex and I to attend this Christmas ball in order to see what happens next? Holmes- I was planning to spend Christmas with my fiancée." Watson was getting more annoyed by the second, whilst the detective just stared back at him.

"Well do that then," replied Holmes with a shrug. "Leave Miss Alex there on her own without anyone to help her if she gets in trouble- she might even get poisoned."

He actually looked amused at that, and I shot him a glare to which he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you not worried about being poisoned?" he asked.

"I'm more worried about meeting up with Mr Wilson and his 'missing H' problem, Mr 'olmes," I replied. Watson tried not to smile, and Holmes seemed amused by the idea.

"I'm still not going," replied Watson as we pulled up at Cavandish Place, climbing out. "So why don't you go instead and drop this silly trip."

Before Holmes could reply, Watson was walking up to his door and the carriage continued on its journey to Baker Street. I leant against the side, propping my head up as I fanned away the smoke that drifted my way from the pipe.

"You don't like smoking?" asked the detective, seemingly confused. "You've never complained before."

"That's because you've never smoked in a cab before- at least not with me," I replied, ignoring the look he was giving me. "It's a nasty habit."

"It helps me when I'm thinking," he replied, leaning back against his side as we stared each other off. "You want me to solve this case don't you?"

"Not in a cab," I replied.

"Oh, so you have a preferred area as to where I should solve my cases?" he asked, sounding amused. He placed his fingertips together as he smirked. "Do tell."

"Your bedroom," I replied, coughing as I caught another whiff of the smoke that was beginning to fill this small space.

"My bedroom?" he repeated, eyes glistening. "Well I hadn't thought of you as that type of girl, Miss Alex."

"Wait. What?" I asked confusedly, and he laughed at my expression. "No! What the hell are you thinking?"

"Calm down," he chuckled, taking the pipe out of his mouth as I glared daggers at him. "I'm thinking that you are the one trying to seduce me."

"I'm not trying to seduce you," I replied with gritted teeth, much to the detectives amusement. "Stop trying to wind me up."

"I'm not trying if I've succeeded," he replied, then brought his pipe up to his mouth. "Such as you have."

In that one moment my anger turned to blankness as I wondered at the meaning of Holmes' words.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, but his burrow was now furrowed as he became lost in deep thought and I resisted the idea to hit him around the head with his pipe.

But I never receive the answer to that question as Holmes was out of the cab and up into 221B Baker Street before I had managed to get out- leaving me to pay the cabbie. I then didn't hear from him until the next night- unfortunately for him.

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"Wake up, Miss Alex!"

I opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with Holmes- almost quite literally- and proceeded to push him away with unbridled fury.

"Go away, Holmes," I replied, rolling over to face away from him. "It's the middle of the night and I'm trying to sleep."

"You don't know that," replied Holmes as he sat on the bed.

"It's dark- that's indication enough," I replied with a growl, and I felt the bed shift as he leaned across me so he could see my face. "Go. Away."

"How do you know that something important hasn't happened?" he asked.

"Your idea of important and mine are completely different," I responded, pulling the sheets tight around me. "For me, sleep is important, just like your wellbeing is not important to you?"

"What make you say that?" He asked, and I proceeded to punch him in the jaw. "Now that was uncalled for."

"So is waking me up at god knows what time," I replied moodily. "What do you want?"

There was silence, as he seemed to consider it before speaking.

"I fear the adventures of our night time intruder are not over," he replied, and I almost literally froze with fear.

"What?" I hissed, before turning around and sitting up in the same movement, bringing me closer to the detective than I was comfortable with- our noses a hairsbreadth away from each other. "What do you mean? If this is some kind of joke Holmes then-"

"It's not," he interrupted. "They left a sign for me, which means that you may be in danger again."

"They're after me again?" I asked, and he nodded in reply.

"Yes- I'll need to keep you closer to me from now on- perhaps then I can have a chance at finding out who the mastermind is behind this plot."

I almost rolled my eyes- of course he didn't care about my wellbeing- he just wanted to catch the bad guy behind this, and I'm sure one name was coming to both our minds at the moment.

"You will need to relocate yourself to my room for the time being," he continued. "It's larger than this one and will be safer seeing as I'm around."

"And as Watson's not around to comment on the inappropriateness of it," I replied, and he grinned widely.

"Naturally," he replied, then got off the bed. "Though why he cares about that rather than your safety concerns me."

I rolled my eyes again as the 'relocating' began, wondering if I should write my will now and if it were possible to come back as a ghost and haunt Holmes because if it. All the while that one name ringing through my mind with every angle that this crime could take.

Moriarty.


	15. Chapter 15: The Future

Now to say I was uncomfortable would be a big understatement, to say I was scared would be a big understatement and to say I was secretly enjoying this would be the biggest mistake you ever made. The fear of having to go through all previous events was what kept me here, lying next to Holmes on his bed as he rambled on about some sort of violin. I had long since tuned him out, after unsuccessfully trying to figure out what this sign was that had made him willing to allow me to come so close to him- only several inches of distance between us and the possibility of that shrinking as we slept. The classic romantic pitfall of waking up in each others when we woke- although I suppose that was the sign of someone who like physical contact, something which I am positive Holmes and I weren't.

Rolling on to my side, I faced away from the detective and closed my eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. Thoughts of the kidnappers filled my mind, as did those of Moriarty and I found myself replaying the Reichenbach Falls scene over and over. A horrible, indescribable feeling slowly filling me at the thought of it actually happening and even more so at the idea of it all going wrong- with him actually dying.

Silence filled the room, indicating that Holmes had finished the monologue he had been conducting and my senses told me that he was looking at me. So I rolled back over to face the great detective and did indeed find him looking at me, his head propped up by his elbow as his gaze took on that of one watching an experiment.

"Did you want something?" I asked when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything.

"I was just taking your advice," he replied, and I gave him a questioning gaze. "You informed me that all my cases should be solved in my bedroom, and as I recall I haven't quite solved the mystery of Miss Alexandra La Reina Vargas- although I do have a new clue."

"Do you?" I asked in a bored tone, although I had to admit I felt curious as to what could possibly have anything to do with my past here.

"Yes- a certain device which I have been studying for a while," he replied. "Although what it is or does is beyond me."

My pulse started to race as the connections were made and I realised that I hadn't seen my mobile in ages- even though I was certain I had it with me. As I thought this, Holmes pulled out the Iphone I had so carelessly forgotten about and I knew that explaining this wasn't going to be easy.

"Care to tell me how it works?" he asked, then with ease switched the phone on- the bright screen lighting up the room and adding further shine to Holmes' eyes as he watched my reaction carefully.

"I only know how to use it," I replied truthfully. "I couldn't go into much detail as to how it works."

His face fell slightly, and he turned it over before removing the back- pointing to the battery with the expression of a school teacher who has caught a student chewing gum.

"That's the battery- it's what's powering it," I replied. "Under that should be the SIM card, which contains an individual number and can be used to store contacts, there is also a memory card which- well, is where you save information, and under the rest of it should be some wiring and circuit boards."

I could tell he wanted me to explain in better, but I knew next to nothing about how phones worked- I couldn't even explain a SIM card for god's sake. Explaining a memory card would be difficult enough without having to go into how it displays this stuff or how phone calls without wires work.

"This is technology beyond our time," Holmes said, putting the back on again and looking at the screen. "Any idiot could see that- which raises the question as to how you have come to possess such an item. A phone I'm guessing- judging by these symbols." He pointed to the receiver-shaped symbol on screen and I nodded dumbly.

"It's a touch-screen," I told him when I realised that he was only pressing the buttons, which only allowed him to learn that the phone was locked. He offered it to me somewhat unwillingly when I pointed that out, and after unlocking handed it back before rolling over once again to face away from him. "Enjoy."

"Hold on, you need to answer my question- how did you come to possess such an item?"

"I bought it," I replied, and I felt him move closer to me as he endeavoured to solve this mystery. "From a shop."

"There is no shop in this time that-" He paused, and I gulped nervously as he figured it out. "You're not from this time- and given the technology that must mean you're from the future." He seemed very excited at this discovery, but also confused as one would expect.

"Sort of," I replied, and sat up- he did the same and I looked at him carefully as I decided to tell him the truth. "I am from the future- but not this future."

At his bemused look I explained further;

"Where I come from- Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective written by one Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and this." Here I indicated to the room around me. "Is just one of the latest adaptions of his works- where I come from you would be a fictional character played by Robert Downey Jr."

Holmes went into thought again, and on a side note I mentally congratulated myself for knowing the author- despite my significant lack of knowledge in this subject. But felt that leave me when I wondered how it must feel to have someone tell you that you're technically not real. I mean unless you believe in alternate universes and realities then that is going to be pretty awful- well, it was probably still the same then.

"So what year is it in your world?" asked Holmes, making me jump.

"2011- Probably 2012 if time's passing normally." He appeared more interested than upset, which of course made me surprised and confused.

"How did you get here?"

"I don't know," I replied quietly, and he leaned forward slightly to hear me. "Just like I don't know how to get back."

"Do you want to go back?" he asked, and I found myself leaning forward slightly as well.

"I don't know," I replied again, and we moved slowly closer to each other.

Holmes suddenly pulled back, and I did the same as he coughed- leaning back on his hands in order to create some distance between us.

"So," he began, "Why don't you tell me a little about your world?"

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

"Have you been at the cocaine again, Holmes?" I asked, wondering how he could expect me to believe such a story.

Holmes sat on his chair, rolling his pipe between his hands as he leant forward with an eagerness that was hard to ignore. I sat on my chair, rubbing my temples as I tried to get around what Holmes was telling me- Alex had gone back to her room, after emerging from Holmes's where she apparently spent the night after Holmes had tricked her into believing she was danger.

Something I made a mental note to tell her about later.

"It's all true- how else do you explain this?" He pulled a strange, rectangular object out of his pocket and showed it to me- the glass part lighting up, reading 'Locked' across it.

"What is that?" I asked in disbelief, watching Holmes as he worked the device like a professional.

"It is a mobile," he replied. " A more technologically advanced version of a phone- and with added features such as this camera."

Looking at this… device, it was easy to see why he believed this story- it was very hard to dismiss with proof like this. But that didn't mean I could automatically accept it- there had to be some other reason for this, like with Blackwood and his supposed resurrection.

"But the amazing thing is this isn't the most technologically advanced item there- apparently even though it's only four years old- it is an outmoded model as they are now on the Iphone 4s."

So they could create new versions of these machines in so short an amount of time? Surely that wasn't possible.

"I think they're already working on an Iphone 5."

I turned to see Alex, looking like she hadn't long woken up- wrapped in a dressing gown I'm sure used to belong to Sherlock and the look of some one half-awake.

"Good morning, Alex," I said to her politely, not wanting to insult her with my disbelief.

"Still?" she asked with a frown, moving to sit down on the sofa. "How long has it actually been since I went to sleep?"

"Just over four hours," replied Holmes, and I looked at him with surprise.

"He kept me up all night asking me questions about everything that has advanced or been created- I'll probably have to get him to swear not to try to create any of this stuff, although I'm not sure how it would affect here since the future of 'here' is unknown to me."

"Apart from the near future," pointed out Holmes, and I looked at her with curiosity- questions to ask. "She knows of some events taking place around the time of your wedding."

"Can't tell you anything, mind you," she replied, yawning. "I'm going to make you pay for keeping me up all night."

Holmes and I shared a look, knowing that it would only make things worse if we told her about the lie Holmes had told her.

"So have you boys resolved the issue of who gets to accompany me to the ball?" She continued, and I realised with a start that I had completely forgotten about the case- and judging from Holmes' look so had he.

"Like I said," replied Holmes. "I won't be here- I have other items that require my attention."

They both looked at me, and I sighed in annoyance.

"I've told you- I'm with Mary and her parents on Christmas," I replied sternly, to which a smirk rose on Holmes' face- and I realised that I'd said something wrong.

"The good thing about the Christmas Ball," he commented somewhat nonchalantly. "Is that it is on Christmas Eve."

I knew that I wasn't getting out of this- but I didn't plan to make this easy on Holmes, he was going to pay for ruining my time with Mary. I'm sure Alex would be interested to hear some of the things he has told me.


	16. Chapter 16: The Carriage

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

I was surprised at how calm Holmes seemed to be with the whole 'I'm from the future' revelation- Watson's reaction was more what I expected with the disbelief, and to be honest I don't know which one was better. But for the whole time in the run up to the ball they acted like nothing had changed- or rather, Watson made sure Holmes didn't bug me repeatedly about anything and everything that had been invented. He was particularly interested in the whole idea of the internet, and even though I couldn't explain it to him he liked the idea of a challenge, so part of the pestering involved theories.

It was only a few days until the ball, and somehow Holmes had coerced Watson into taking me- even though he wasn't happy with it. What Holmes was going to be doing was beyond me- he said he wouldn't be here yet he showed no signs of leaving and instead focused his time on chemistry experiments. I was biding my free time with reading some of the books lying around- Watson had given me some of his old novels as well, seeing as an almanac wasn't quite interesting.

I was reading Alice in Wonderland, sitting on the sofa in the lounge in case Holmes had any visitors- he himself was in his room, working on another of his little chemistry experiments. We had fallen out after he had revealed that I wasn't in any definite danger from our intruder, who he did suspect worked under Moriarty and that of course meant nothing- he went after Watson and Mary- or rather was going to- so why should he leave me out? But I was still angry with him nonetheless, and words were limited between us.

"Has anyone come?"

"No," I replied, not looking up from the book. "Expecting someone?"

"No."

I could see Holmes out of the corner of my eye as he came over and sat on the sofa, picking up his pipe and lighting it. He looked annoyed, probably the experiments going wrong or something and it had something to do with that mystery absence on Christmas Eve. He turned his head to look at me, and I made sure not to let him know I was observing him carefully, making sure to actually read the book as well so I didn't end up reading the same page for fifteen minutes.

"Still mad at me I see," he commented. "There is truth in the saying you misquoted to me earlier in our acquaintance- 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'."

"That's not the way I heard it," I replied through gritted teeth. "But you are the genius after all."

He didn't say anything, just continued to study me carefully and occasionally chew on his pipe. It was distracting and somewhat disturbing, so I went back to the ignoring him routine and hoped he would eventually go shut himself in his room again.

"How long are you planning on staring at me?" I asked when it became apparent he wasn't going to move. "It's really annoying."

"I'm not staring- I'm observing," replied the detective calmly.

"Observe something else," I snapped, closing the book and making to leave.

Holmes reached up and grabbed my wrist as I stood up, and I looked at him with anger but he didn't seem fazed.

"There is nothing on this Earth that I would rather observe," he replied. "You are a most unique specimen."

"Because I'm not from here," I replied, keeping my tone calm even though the anger still burned inside. "Because I'm the only one who can tell you of the future."

"No," disagreed Holmes. "Why should I waste my time studying a future I will never see- I am more curious of the girl who came here. Why should she be the one to come here? Was it a random occurrence, or was there something special about her? And more importantly, if she knew how to get back would she leave us in an instant?"

He stood up, standing in front of me with a questioning gaze in his eyes, and I tried not to cry as the questions I had tried to forget came to the front of my mind. Would I be able to get home? How long has it been there since I left? Did anyone notice I was gone? Was I being missed? Did they think I was dead? But most important of all- did I want to go back? Did I want to go back to my boring existence in reality and leave behind the two greatest men I had ever met? Did I want to go back to a world where there was no-one as brilliant as the genius detective Sherlock Holmes and no-one as charming as Dr John Watson? Did I want to leave behind the man I was falling in love with?

With a start, I broke out of the train of thoughts that was pulling me down and looked up into the brown eyes of the detective that regarded me as only an object of some interest. He looked at me like I was an experiment or an interesting book- because he hid away his emotions and looked down in scorn at the one known as love, and I had just admitted to myself that I was setting in my heart for a breaking.

"Miss Alex?" he asked, frowning, and I realised the a rebel tear was rolling down my face which I quickly wiped away.

"It's nothing," I replied, all strength into keeping my tone calm. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" Looking into his eyes I could see that gleam of interest, and just this once I wished it wasn't there.

"About what you said," I replied dismissively. "I don't know whether or not I would leave- but even If I chose to leave it wouldn't be in an instant. It would be rude not to say goodbye."

"Indeed," agreed Holmes. "It would be rude to leave so suddenly and without explanation- especially when you go somewhere where we cannot find you."

"Would you remember?" I asked suddenly, and his expression became bemused. "Would you remember after I'd gone?"

"Of course," he replied, still bemused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Once a case has passed you never mention it again," I explained. "John told me that once you've solved a case you forget all about it because it's no longer of any interest to you."

He looked annoyed by that statement but didn't deny it, because we both knew that he did, and part of me wondered if it was also because he knew he'd forget me if I left. On an impulse, with my free hand I reached up and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at me with curiosity but didn't make any attempt to stop me.

"What is it about your hair that makes me want to touch it?" I queried, and a small smirk appeared on his face.

"So it's my hair that made you do that?" he asked with a chuckle, before using his free hand to brush a strand of my hair out of my face. "What an odd excuse."

"It's not an excuse," I replied automatically, attention focused on his hand which had come to rest on my cheek. "More of a thought or a question."

"A thought," he repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, I've had similar thoughts."

He leant in closer, and I quickly placed my fingers on his lips before he could kiss me- even though inside I was screaming to let him do it.

"This isn't going to be like last time is it?" I asked, as he let go of my wrist in order to move my fingers.

"Do you not want me to kiss you?" he asked, bemused.

"I want to know if you are going to kiss me and then act like nothing happened," I replied, heart racing. "Because if this is just some experiment for you then don't."

He stood back up straight, looking at me with considerable confusion and I knew that It definitely had been nothing more than an experiment. Though what he could have been experimenting about was beyond me, not that it mattered in that instant because I was so angry- and yet, so sad.

"What would you prefer I did?" He asked. "Tell everyone about it?"

"No," I replied, feeling my fingers clench into fists as he started chewing on his pipe again.

"Then what?"

"I don't know," I replied angrily. "I just know that I don't want you to trample all over my feelings like that and use me in your stupid experiments!"

"Feelings," he said with some distaste. "They are always problematic- and you're proof of that."

His head swung around as I slapped him on the face, unable to contain my anger any longer.

"That's your problem!" I shouted. "You act like you know everything and that you're better than everyone else because they don't try to hide their feelings! And because no one else sees things the way you do that makes them an idiot! You are arrogant, self-centred and selfish! You know everyone else shows feeling but you don't seem to care if you hurt them- surely even an emotionless genius knows not to be considerate of other people? You just care about yourself and think yourself better than everyone because you are different!"

With that, I quickly turned around and left the room- and to make sure I wasn't anywhere near him I also left the building. Tears had begun to stream down my face, and I cursed myself for falling in love with the one man who cannot love. I wiped them away as I walked down the street, reminding myself that is better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all- but that wasn't meant for unrequited love but for a dead love, something which Holmes wasn't.

"Poor little girl," tutted a voice. "Having a little trouble with Holmes?"

I looked up to see a woman standing in front of me, some sympathy in her eyes and a handkerchief in her hand. But it wasn't just any woman- it was the woman.

"Clean yourself up dear, there's someone who wants to meet you."

I took the handkerchief from her, wiping my eyes as I noticed that she wasn't alone- two men were now standing behind me, inconspicuously as people walked past us on their way to god knows where.

"Who wants to meet me?" I asked, handing her back the handkerchief which she accepted with a slight grimace. "Moriarty?"

"Clever girl." Irene smiled at me with what I assumed was fake kindness. "I can see why Holmes keeps you around. Come along then."

I walked behind her as she led to a waiting carriage, and even though I knew I shouldn't- resisting would just cause more problems and probably end up with someone getting hurt- me most likely.

Another man opened to door, and Irene indicated for me to get in. With one last glance at 221B Baker Street, I climbed into the carriage and sat opposite Professor James Moriarty.


	17. Chapter 17: The Next Death

The carriage shook as we went on our way, any hope of getting back to 221B Baker Street gone and only the presence of the so-called Napoleon of crime to keep me from jumping out of the carriage. Looking at him, you wouldn't go wrong my believing that he was just a professor and maybe it was because I knew the truth, but I could see that glimmer of evil behind his eyes. The predatory gleam as he sought out his prey, and no prizes for guessing who that was.

"I hope you'll forgive me, but I have wanted to meet you for quite some time, Miss Vargas," he said in a friendly tone, and I wondered if he knew that I knew his other occupation. "I've heard Holmes isn't one for a social life and I was curious as to why he would keep such a lovely young lady around."

"You heard correctly," I replied darkly, unable to wash away the surge of anger I felt at the detective.

"Had a bit of falling out have you?" From his tone, I could tell that Moriarty already knew- no doubt from his little spy network. "But I suppose it was only a matter of time- I'm sure you're not the first to have fallen out with him."

"Did you kidnap me for any particular reason?" I asked coolly. "Or did you just fancy a pleasant chat?"

He observed me for a few seconds, before chuckling slightly and sitting forward slightly.

"You remind me of another woman I know-a Miss Irene Adler."

"I'm nothing like her," I replied coldly. "She's a criminal."

"And Holmes isn't?"

I ignored the question, leaning back into the seat in an unconscious effort to get away from this man- who was so like Holmes, and yet so different; the same intelligent mind, always searching for something interesting to bide time and stop to stop that intelligent mind tearing itself apart. The consulting detective and the professor turned criminal. Perhaps he had always been a criminal, perhaps he had wanted to be someone like Holmes but then gone insane on the way there- a criminal, yes, but sane… someone who hangs a man up on a fish hook can't be called sane.

"I say that, because surely someone who associates themselves with criminals," he continued. "Is by the eyes of others, a criminal themselves- a notion of the law I find most annoying."

"I'd prefer it if we skipped the lecture."

"So you would prefer I tell you straight away what I want from you?" he asked, and the faintest smile appeared on his face. "Are you sure?"

I looked him squarely in the eye, and nodded.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

When I returned to Baker Street, I tried hard to push his words to the back of my mind and focus more on what I was going to say to Holmes. I'm sure he hadn't appreciated the whole slap-and-lecture thing I had thrown at him, I'm sure he wouldn't have appreciated knowing that I had just moments ago conversing with his arch enemy. I walked slowly through the front door and up the stairs, biding my time even though Holmes probably knew I was back. So when I walked into the lounge and found Holmes standing there, holding two glasses of brandy in his hands and that look of childish guilt on his face I wasn't surprised.

"I apologise for my… insensitivity," where the first words that left his mouth, and he held out a glass of brandy towards me. "I hope you can forgive me."

I closed the door slowly behind me, before accepting the glass with a guilty smile and fingering it lightly.

"I do," I replied, taking a sip and pulling a face against the drink. "I'm sorry about hitting you."

"It's fine- to be honest I expected more than a slap from someone with fighting skills like your own," he commented, and we chuckled slightly. "Let us sit back down, and forget about this occurrence."

"All of it?" I asked, looking up at him.

"All of it," he replied, and I shook my head slightly. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me in curiosity. "You don't want to forget all of it?"

"Not this part," I replied, placing his free hand on my cheek.

"I see," he muttered, leaning in towards me. "Most intriguing."

His lips brushed against mine and I claimed them in a passionate kiss, my hands automatically moving to wrap around his shoulders and his free arm wrapping around my waist. His lips tasted like the tobacco he liked to smoke so much, and the bizarre chemicals he so often consumed.

Maybe he did only think of me as an experiment, but I loved him- I loved that crazy, eccentric detective and I knew I couldn't tell him. For him who laughs at love, this was just a natural reaction- the biological attraction between a male and a female.

His grip around my waist tightened as much as it could with the glass in his hand, and the hand on my cheek moved to the back of my neck and wove its way into my hair. Kissing each other until we broke apart to breathe properly, his forehead resting against my own and a flush on both our faces.

"Once again you prove your ability to intrigue me," he commented, eyes half-closed. "I am very well-trained at supressing basic instincts and emotions- yet around you it does not feel like I have control at all."

I took a sip of the brandy, trying not to let the scent of him wash over me and pretended to think carefully.

"Have you figured out why that is?" I asked nonchalantly, taking another sip and trying not to let him know that a horrible suspense was waiting for relief in my chest- what would he say?

"No," he replied eventually. "Another one of the little mysteries surrounding you that needs to be cleared up I believe."

The sound of voices reached up to us from downstairs, and we stepped back from each other as someone was heard running up the stairs towards this room. Holmes opened it just as the panicked face of Lord Jacobson appeared.

"He was poisoned!" he cried. "It happened again! He was poisoned!"

"Calm down- who was poisoned?" questioned Holmes.

"Turner! My butler!"

"Have a drink to calm your nerves, and tell me from the beginning what happened," ordered Holmes, and I handed my drink over to the panicked man which he finished in one mouthful. His eyes still showed the panic, but his face now had some colour to it.

We guided him over to the sofa where he attempted to regain his nerves, watching Holmes and as we took our seats.

"He was helping out in the kitchen until we could find a new head chef- my other kitchen staff aren't quite competent enough for that, so he was working with them preparing dinner for myself and my visitors- Lord and Lady Stoper. Of course it gets very hot in the kitchen, and I was told that he had a glass of wine when he started acting just like Mrs Stroud. Now I had told them to get me if it were to happen again, and so I grabbed the activated charcoal and rushed to the kitchen where he was convulsing on the floor- I gave it to him, but the doctors told me that the poison had done too much damage already and he… died."

So that butler was dead as well… My hands were shaking slightly; I might be put in the firing line- Watson as well- all because Holmes wanted us to go to this stupid ball. But we had to do it in order to catch the criminal… didn't we? I glanced at Holmes who had intent concentration in his eyes, hoping that if he did figure it out he would tell us and not leave us hanging until the very last moment.

"We will proceed as planned," Holmes said, and we both looked at him in surprise.

"You can't be serious?" cried Lord Jacobson, jumping to his feet. "Two members of my staff are dead and you wish for me to continue on with this regardless of the consequences? I don't want anyone else to be poisoned!"

"No one will be," snapped Holmes, and he stood up as well. "Contrary to popular belief I know exactly what I'm doing- and if you have nothing more to add then you'd best leave."

There was a short stare down before Lord Jacobson withered under the steely gaze, and muttered an apology before leaving. I stared in mute surprise as Holmes collapsed to his chair again, taking a sip of brandy and letting out a sigh.

"How can he expect us to catch the culprit if he bends to their will," he commented, more to himself than me.

"So you do know what you're doing then?" I asked, wondering whether I had heard Holmes's 'popular belief' sentence somewhere else- I was getting a sense of déjà vu. "John and I aren't going to be poisoned and die horrible deaths?"

Holmes shot me a look of exasperation and I responded with a raised eyebrow, wondering what had crawled up his butt and died.

"No- you are perfectly safe," he replied with a sigh, bringing his fingertips together. "It is Mr Wilson that I'm most worried about."

"Mr Wilson?" I repeated with some confusion. "You think that he will be killed next?"

"Poisoned," corrected Holmes. "If Lord Jacobson has learnt his lesson, then he should be able to save him."

"But why him?" I asked, trying to put the pieces together in my mind and drawing a blank. "Plus what does all this have to do with the Christmas ball?"

A small smile appeared on the detectives face, and he put his hands down as he looked at me.

"Precisely."

Needless to say I was left even more confused.


	18. Chapter 18: The Ball

**/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/**

"I feel like a china doll," muttered Alex from beside me as we approached Warburton Hall. "Make-up should be banned."

"I'm sure you're the only woman who thinks that," I replied with a chuckle. "You look beautiful."

"I don't agree," she replied, then tugged slightly at the dress she was wearing- a deep red and black gown that would have been outlandish on Mary, but suited her perfectly and showed the fiery spirit inside. "It is my belief it is put on to stop the lack of oxygen showing- very unattractive that is."

As we approached the doors, where Lord Jacobson was greeting his other guests with a pale face and forced smile, Alex's grip tightened on my arm and I looked to see that her face had gone a shade paler as well. Her eyes darted from the door to a turnoff in the street, and I knew that she wanted to leave.

"Don't worry," I told her soothingly. "You won't come to any harm."

She gave a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes and I knew she probably wouldn't relax until this was all over. But she was bearing the problem with her back straight and placing her trust in me now that Holmes was unavailable to help us investigate.

"You made it!" Lord Jacobson cried, shaking me by the hand and lifting Alex's hand up to kiss it. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"We're not that late, are we?" asked Alex in confusion, and he flushed slightly.

"I wouldn't think so- forgive me, this day seems to be going by at a painfully slow rate," he replied. "Especially since Mr Wilson was hospitalised after he was poisoned."

I was shocked, and I looked at him in disbelief.

"Is he all right?" asked Alex, though from her tone she didn't seem to completely care- not that I blamed her.

"I don't know- it was this morning," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't been able to get there with all the last minute preparations for the ball."

We headed into the building, as he led us along to the ballroom where the other guests were waiting- Lords, ladies and other people of higher society. I recognised some as members of the government, foreign diplomats and even some previous clients of Holmes. All were dressed in expensive clothing with wives in expensive jewellery- even the servants were dressed in fine clothing that made me feel underdressed and made me hate Holmes even more for making me do this- I could have been spending time with my future wife.

"My intuition is telling me that everybody here is either a rich snob or a rich snobs servant," commented Alex, and I tried not to smile as everyone in hearing distance gave her a look of annoyance. "I think they might have heard me."

"I think they might have," I agreed, and Lord Jacobson cleared his throat slightly.

"Well then- I'll leave you to it," he said with a nervous smile before disappearing off into the crowd.

"I think he's gone to search for his backbone."

"You're certainly feisty today," I commented, leading her around the groups of people and towards one of the tables at the side.

"Blame the nerves," she replied, looking around the room in amazement. "This place is huge!"

"It certainly is," I commented, pulling out her seat and allowing her to sit down. "It must take up most of the ground floor."

"And Holmes expects us to find something out? Let's just pretend to do it- he's not here."

I took the seat next to her, trying to use Holmes methods as I searched the crowds- some sitting, some standing in groups, laughing as they drank out of expensive glasses, and some- couples- who were dancing to the music provided my a small orchestra that looked more suited to a funeral with their black suits and sombre expressions. Waiters walked about the room, making sure everybody had a drink or a snack as they occasionally took trays from the buffet table. The only person who looked vaguely out of place was Lord Jacobson, with his nervous disposition, and a scruffy looking waiter who looked like he had been chosen as a last resort.

"What could he be doing that's so important?" Alex continued, fingering the glass of wine in a way I knew meant she was nervous. So I turned to face her and placed my hand on hers, the most comfort I could give her.

"Don't worry," I said soothingly, a quick glance in Lord Jacobson's direction to see how he was faring. "Everything will be fine- you've no need to worry."

"That's what Holmes said," she replied, and downed the glass of wine before pulling a face that made me chuckle. "I never liked wine."

"Go easy on the drinks," I chided, and she raised an eyebrow.

"If I'm going to suffer I might as well be drunk- then I have a chance of not remembering," she replied, then sighed and leaned back, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. "I can't do formal- I can't do formal to save my life, especially when it involves dancing and dresses. I feel as though I'm on display and being judged by a bunch of people who think themselves the top dog- all criticising me even though chances are I'll never see them again. They don't even speak to you- just watch from afar and gossip."

I was beginning to suspect that she may have had something to drink before coming here, and was wondering what the chances were that I could send her back to Baker Street before she caused any trouble when the scruffy waiter turned up and held the tray of wine in front of her.

"Try one of these- Victorian wine imported straight from Australia itself," he said, watching her with a calculating gaze that was half-hidden by his long, lanky hair.

"I don't like wine," she repeated, taking a glass and downing it in one.

"I can see that," he replied, a joking tone in his voice. "Perhaps I'd best leave the tray here for you to finish off."

"Don't," I warned him, and he looked at me before nodding his head slightly.

"If you say so, sir. Just thought you'd want to liven the girl up a bit for when you go to bed."

"She's a colleague- nothing more," I protested. "I've already got a fiancée."

"Then why didn't you bring her?"

"That's enough." A man of around fifty appeared, peering through golden spectacles at the waiter with a disapproving grimace. "Why don't you get back to doing your job."

"Yes, sir," the waiter replied, nodding slightly before leaving.

"Thank you," I said to the man, who merely nodded in reply before taking the seat next to me and opposite Alex, who was fiddling with the empty glass as she stared after the waiter with a bemused look on her face. "Is something the matter?"

"I just thought… he reminded me of…," her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "Never mind- just thinking."

"Jacobson must have nerves of steel to continue after the chaos this place has been put through," commented the man, glancing at Alex who had snorted in disbelief. "I wonder what he must be thinking. I'm Lord Hatherly, by the way."

"I'm Doctor John Watson- and this is my colleague Miss Alex Vargas." I gave a careful glance in her direction, noting that she was still occasionally looking at the waiter- but dared not to ask her what was on her mind whilst Lord Hatherly was around.

"Dr Watson? You are a colleague of that detective- Sherlock Holmes was it?" he asked, and I nodded in affirmation. "I heard he was working on this case- is he here?"

"No," I replied. "He had some other cases to attend to."

"More important that this one?" Lord Hatherly asked in surprise.

"Apparently."

"I requested his help once- with a burglary. He never replied as I recall- why was what?" His tone had turned sharp, which brought Alex's attention back to us.

"Your wife's leaving," she commented, and Lord Hatherly looked at her in shock before turning to the door where indeed a woman was leaving in the company of a man a few years younger than herself.

Lord Hatherly hastily got to his feet and headed over to where they were, and I turned to look at Alex in surprise.

"How did you know that was his wife?" I asked.

"They came together as a couple, fairly intimate, and seeing as everyone is married these days…" her voice trailed off and she glanced at the waiter again. "I feel weird."

"Are you in pain?" I asked, alarmed- had she been poisoned?

"No, I just feel weird," she replied vaguely, and pinched the bridge of her nose before groaning.

"I think you may have had too much to drink," I informed with disapproval ,looking at the flush that had appeared on her face.

"I've only had two glasses of wine," she protested, and then once more glanced at the waiter. "He reminds me of someone- the eyes, they're just like his."

I glanced at her with worry as her speech slurred slightly at the end- she might have been lying a bout the alcohol, and may have been drunk- but these were also symptoms associated with the poison. But those who had probably only had a few sips were killed in minutes- she had drunk two glasses and didn't appear worse for wear.

"They're just like who's?" I asked, but she shook her head.

"No- I'm just imagining things," she replied with a wave of her arm. "Not helping the investigation."

"We're not doing much investigating anyway," I commented, and picked up my own wine glass. "What we're supposed to be looking for is beyond me- there are too many suspects, and we can't be expected to keep an eye on them all."

"Holmes probably knows who it is." She glanced at the various people gathered around the room. "He'd probably know how to go about this- I mean we can't even get close to most of the people without looking suspicious. Perhaps we should just wait for someone to drop dead and carry on from there out."

She definitely wasn't feeling well, she looked like she might have a headache and her face now had a noticeable flush across it. Some of the women around use were glancing at the two of us with interest- no doubt thinking some love affair was going on between us.

I went to take a sip from the glass before pausing, glancing over the seemingly drunk Alex. I had never considered her in a romantic way- I had never even thought of her marrying, as she reminded me of Holmes in a way that made me believe that she –like him- was against marriage and love. She was a beautiful young lady, still in her youth and possessed a fiery nature that was sure to capture the attention of many a man- though so far it seemed the only man who was interested in her was Holmes, and deny it or not there appeared to some sort of affection between the two of them. Like with Irene, to her she stood out from the crowds of other women and earned from him a respect that he was rare to give.

But how did I view her? I had always said she was like a sister to me- a strong bond between us that made me watch over her carefully and resent Holmes' carelessness with her health. I held affection for her- but not one like I held for Mary, and indeed it never would be. Although I suspected that part of the reason for this was because of her similarity to Holmes- my brother in bond, and my friendship towards him.

"Well if Holmes knows who's behind it then there is no reason for us to be here," I replied with a sigh, hoping that this wasn't part of Holmes's campaign to sabotage my relationship with Mary- although I had assumed he had stopped that after getting us that engagement ring. So with a sigh I copied Alex's example and downed the glass of wine. "Care to dance?"

"I can't dance," she replied, but took my hand anyway, and I led her over to the dance floor where several other couples were already dancing.

"Just follow my lead," I replied, placing one hand on her waist and taking her hand in my own.

"Can you dance?" she asked sceptically, as we began.

"Just about," I replied with a chuckle. "I had a very good teacher."

We both danced away, unaware of the danger we were in as the timer counted down to zero and our lives began to burn out.


	19. Chapter 19: The Obvious

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

I was feeling weird- not the usual tipsy, but even more weird than that with a headache and fever. It wasn't that bad, but I felt a bit sick as well- and I could have sworn there was a dragon flying around the room. Was it possible I had got drunk on two glasses of wine? I considered telling Watson, but he'd probably just have a go at me for being irresponsible and then Holmes would never let me have a moment's peace as he berated me about it ruining the investigation or something.

"I feel dizzy," I commented as we danced- the waltz I believe- and Watson looked at me with the disapproving look of a doctor. The dizziness and the headache were making the nausea worse, so I rested my head on his shoulder as I groaned. "Not good- I don't feel good."

"Are you sure you didn't drink anything before coming here?" he asked, tense against my touch, and I shook my head. "Would you like to stop dancing?"

I nodded, and he pulled me away to the closest unoccupied table, sitting me down and giving me a check up. He took my pulse, checked my pupils and I caught a worried look on his face as he finished.

"What's up?" I asked.

"The wine you were drinking- did it taste weird?" he asked, trying to sound calm- but I had a feeling that I may be another victim. But surely I would be lying on the floor convulsing or be dead or something along those lines.

"Wine always tastes weird to me," I replied, rubbing my temples against the pain that was building up. "Am I dying?"

"No- you're fine," he replied, and I knew he was lying. "Whatever was wrong with you appears to be going."

"That's a lie," I replied, as the pain got worse and tears sprung to my eyes. "My head feels like its being crushed in a vice."

"Tension headache," he replied, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Usually the result of stress, dehydration or sleep deprivation- I would give you a painkiller, but I don't have any on me so perhaps we should get back to Baker Street."

"It's worse than any headache I've had before," I replied, resting my head on the table and using my willpower to try to stop the pain.

"Is everything alright?" I heard- Lord Jacobson going by the nervous tone. "Is she okay?"

"A headache- you don't happen to have any sort of painkiller here do you?"

"Or a sledgehammer," I supplied, and then lifting my head up I saw the scruffy-haired waiter looking straight at me with confusion.

"I don't" replied Jacobson, looking at me as though I was dangerous- but hey, I didn't have the sledgehammer yet. Had they even made sledgehammers yet? Most likely. "Would you like me to a get a carriage ready for you?"

"That would be nice," replied Watson, and he turned his attention to me as he left. "It appears the poison has faded- someone must have given you the cure already."

"Poison?" I looked at him in surprise and horror. "You said I hadn't been poisoned."

"I said you weren't dying- someone gave us the cure before it could take hold," he replied, and once again gave me a quick check-up. "The drinks we were given must have had the poison in."

"What do you mean both of us?" I asked, because I was sure that he had been perfectly well- but Watson's attention was focused on the waiter.

"It must have been…" His voice trailed off and he looked back at me. "Who were you going to say he reminded you of?"

I was going to reply when screams and shouts interrupted me, and we turned just in time to see one of the many chandeliers fall and hit the ground with a smash. People ran away from the area, all attention drawn to the centre of the room as Lord Jacobson quickly made the servants clear it up and apologised for the event.

"What was that about?" I asked, looking up at the roof- but it was too high to see what had caused it to fall. "Is this the poisoners doing?"

"I think it was a coincidence," Watson replied, also looking at the roof.

"Holmes wouldn't agree," I pointed out. "I mean the poisoner did make that threat against the ball."

That's when it hit me- listening to the witness statements about the poisoning, none had mentioned anything about a threat coming with the poisoning and even Lord Jacobson seems to have forgotten about it… or had he? His wife had been poisoned- Holmes had told me it was a similar case with nightshade and he seemed to believe that it was linked. The wife and three longstanding servants- a cook, a butler and a waiter. What was the connection? There had to be something that tied them together other than Lord Jacobson. Plus there was Watson and I- presumably because we were investigating the case. But why would someone go to the trouble of destroying the traces between them and their victims and then go and do something like kill us? They might have well as killed the police investigating the deaths of the first few victims.

"Something's not right," I muttered under my breath, trying to think straight through the pain. "We're missing a piece- there's got to be something big we've overlooked."

Let's think- cook died, Lord Jacobson gets us to investigate, butler dies, waiter dying and ball goes on as planned… Plan- Holmes and Jacobson's plan. Holmes had seemed really angry when Jacobson suggested calling the ball of- why was that? Plus what was the plan they had to stick to? Why hadn't Jacobson told the servants about the activated charcoal? Why had he started keeping it after his wife's murder? Was he expecting something like this to happen? What did this all have to do with the ball? Why was Jacobson showing his anxiety? Surely a man who had suffered the death of his wife would have a steel backbone against such tragedy?

"You're carriage is ready."

I looked up at he waiter- the same one who had given me the second drink, and reminded me so much of him I knew my thoughts were right. So much so that as Watson escorted me past him, I glanced once more into those eyes and saw all I needed to see.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

Christmas day came and passed, as did boxing day, and it seemed that nothing more had happened at the ball- the falling chandelier had indeed just been coincidence. Holmes returned back to Baker Street with a smile on his face, seemingly having forgotten the entire case and instead spending time on violin recitals at random times during the day and night. Any attempt to bring the case into the conversation would lead to his changing the subject after saying that it was no longer applicable.

"The threats regarded the ball and that passed without fatality," he informed me. "Therefore there is no need for us to continue with that particular episode."

These were the words he would say, and I continually accepted them as part of his erratic nature. He no doubt thought he case merited any interest as he believed no further events would happen- the fact that Watson and I had been poisoned meant nothing to him. But one day – New Year 's Eve to be exact- my patience was worn thin and I said something that had been pressing my mind.

"There was no threat about the ball!"

The wailing tune stopped abruptly, and Holmes turned to look at me with an interest.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, taking his regular seat and placing down the violin and bow.

"Only Lord Jacobson mentioned the threat, and that was in the note- none of the servants mentioned it and he himself seemed to forget about it, until the butlers death," I replied. "But regardless of that if there were actually a threat, surely someone who killed three of the staff wouldn't be afraid of making good with the threat."

"A fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked," he agreed. "And here I thought that Scotland Yard had added a grasp of the obvious to its poorly selected skills range."

"Whoever did it was worried that they had been found out- which is why they poisoned Watson and I," I continued. "They had been careful enough on the previous victims who could be tied in with the ball, but then after us- and killing us would have been a risky move to make seeing as you are the one who actually solves the crimes. Killing us risked bringing your attention even more firmly down- a reason that comes to mind is they were sending you a message, knowing you would prevent us from dying."

"You saw through my disguise?" he asked with amusement.

"I'd recognise those eyes anywhere," I replied, and he chuckled.

"Very good- you are certainly more attentive than those at Scotland Yard," he commented. "But do you know who the criminal is?"

"I can't say I do," I replied thoughtfully, and he sighed before picking up his violin again, beginning to play another bizarre tune he had no doubt made up.

"Pity," he commented. "You were beginning to show some intelligence."

I resisted the urge to hit him- he no doubt didn't know, as he had insulted me and if he did then he would pay- dearly.

"Do you have it figured out then?" I asked, but he ignored the question and continued with the music.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal a man standing on the landing- picking at his dirty teeth with his finger.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

"Do come in- take a seat," Holmes said, not putting down the violin whilst I looked at the man in disbelief.

It was the dead butler.


	20. Chapter 20: The Solution

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

It was the dead butler- it looked exactly like him, bad teeth and all. I looked at Sherlock, who looked back at me with a smirk before turning to our guest.

"Take a seat," he said, though it was more of an order than a suggestion. "I wanted to further understand the grounds of your dismissal- it would be of great use to me. This here is Luther Turner- Maxwell's younger twin brother."

The last part had, obviously, been said to me in way of explaining, and I could only nod in reply as I tried to get over the initial shock. Turner took a seat on the sofa, so I moved to Watson's old seat and shot Holmes a warning look as he raised an eyebrow.

"Now would you care to tell us…" his voice trailed off slightly as he watched me pick up his violin and pluck the strings as I had seen him do many times. "Would you care to tell us why you had to leave the service of one Lord Jacobson?"

"That bastard? He only fired me because he thought I was after the maid," he replied, looking between us as Holmes attempted to retrieve his violin without drawing attention to himself. "Just 'cause the only times he was nice to a girl was when he wanted her, he thought everyone else did the same."

I twisted my upper body to the right as his hand sneaked across the table- needless to say he couldn't reach it, but left his arm there in case I should move back.

"Most intriguing," replied Holmes. "I've also heard he was like that even when he was happily married."

"He was- he did it when he was married and he did it when they was married."

"Whose 'they'?" I asked, trying to play Mad World and keep Holmes from getting his violin back.

"Women in general," he replied with a shrug, picking at his teeth again. "Though he was 'specially fond of Mrs Stroud- she would have gladly left him if it weren't to the fact she had to get money in seeing as her husband was away at war."

I thought of how he had complimented me, and made a mental note to hit him next time I saw him.

"How was he when he found out about this… incident?" asked Holmes.

"Angry- really angry. Jacobson is known among his staff for his foul temper- he's assaulted them before."

"Are we saying that Jacobson is behind this?" I asked, more to Holmes than to our guest.

"No- you are saying that. I- am thinking it," replied Holmes, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. "The case is certainly against him- yet we are overlooking something of importance. A motive. People don't have to be foul-tempered to kill, just as those who kill don't have to be foul-tempered."

"Someone else is involved?" I asked, immediately thinking of Moriarty- and what he had told me.

"Most likely- Lord Jacobson isn't an intelligent man, and so he certainly couldn't have murdered them in a way that left the trail almost cold."

"But he knew about it?"

Turner looked at each of us in turn as we spoke, looking incredibly confused and slightly annoyed at having been forgotten.

"Yes- and it was in no doubt the same person who helped him murder his wife." He picked up the bow, rolling it between his hands.

"Who is?" I enquired.

"I don't know," admitted Holmes. "Now hand me back my violin so I can continue thinking."

I went to hand it back to him, but pulled it back as a thought came to me and ignored the annoyed look he was giving me.

"You say you don't know- but you must have some idea."

"I have several," he replied, watching the instrument as I waved it back and forth with a smile on my face. "But as you know I don't want to disclose that information to anyone- least of all you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a frown.

"You do have a habit of getting kidnapped," he replied, and I felt my heart race- did he know about Moriarty?

"That only happened once," I lied, mentally praying to whatever deities were out there that he didn't.

"One time too many," he replied, then looked with a start at Turner- as though he had actually forgotten the man was there. "Why are you still here? Kindly leave please."

"You are so charming," I commented sarcastically, after he had left. "No wonder you have so many friends."

"The same to you," He retorted.

"Who has the violin?" I reminded him, and he looked at it as though I were holding Watson hostage instead of an inanimate object.

"I apologise." I handed him back the violin, and he gave me a suspicious look. "Do you have any ideas as to who is behind this?"

"As you know I thought Jacobson," I replied with a shrug. "I never really gave much thought to that, seeing as it's your area of expertise."

"And yet you were able to figure out that the Ball threat was a ruse," he pointed out, checking over the violin to make sure I hadn't damaged it.

"But that was obvious," I protested.

"And yet it is the obvious facts that are overlooked." Satisfied, he began to play out that haunting tune again.

"So are we missing another obvious fact?" I questioned. "The real criminal is someone so obvious we've overlooked them and forgotten all about them."

He didn't reply, to busy going over the facts in his head and all the while the solution evade our minds.

"Someone who helped kill his wife and then killed his staff," I mused. "Someone who is much more intelligent than this womaniser."

A thought came to me- something trivial that had been overlooked as something of no importance.

"He was threatened," I said out loud, and Holmes stopped playing once again.

"Who was?" He asked, with a curiosity so genuine I wondered if he actually didn't know it.

"Lord Jacobson- his wife's death was because he was threatened about something," I replied. "It wasn't about the Ball- it was about the company."

"Do explain." Holmes placed the violin down and rested his chin on his fist as he observed me.

"Lord Jacobson is joint head of a major clothing firm with Lord Stoper- if someone were truly motivated they would do anything to eliminate the partner in order to have all of the profit to themselves. Of course, just killing them off would draw attention immediately to them- but if the partner were to quit… In this case he killed Jacobson's wife in order to make him quit, but Jacobson is fond of the ladies and no doubt his wife was of no more importance to him than any other woman so that plan failed. So Stoper was forced into rethinking the plan, all the while threatening to kill Jacobson should he reveal the plans. Eventually he comes up with a plan, after hearing what the younger Turner had to say about his former boss- if members of his staff were to start dying, a false threat was mentioned by Jacobson then suspicion would be immediately drawn to him. The revealing of the darker side of his personality would only reinforce these ideas, and suspicion would be drawn from Lord Stoper whilst… No, Stoper didn't kill Jacobson's wife- he did that himself…"

"And Stoper accidently discovered this when Jacobson had too much to drink and accidently revealed this," finished Holmes. "Therefore he could ensure his silence with that- at least whilst Jacobson foolishly believed that he could get away without being hung. He would then retire, saying that the ordeal had caused him too much pain or some such statement- it would be believable enough that he would draw no suspicion to himself, and by hiring me to follow an almost cold trail he further ensured that whilst they foolishly believed that we would never discover this."

I ran it over again in my head, realising that Lord Stoper's plan had one big flaw and that was it all rested on Holmes not finding out, and for a clever man that was a stupid mistake to make. Unless someone else had a role to play, whispering these dark thoughts into the mans ears and helping him wipe the trail clear- Moriarty.

"I thought you didn't know who did it?" I asked, looking at him with confusion.

"I don't," he replied. "Lord Stoper must have had someone doing his dirty work for him- It's him we need."

"Are those he ideas you had?"

"Some of them," he replied, then leaned towards me. "Tell me- what was your clue as to the solution?"

"I was wondering about why some like Jacobson would get married- surely he would only do that if she was really special to him? But from what Turner said he didn't seem to care about her that much, so no doubt he hadn't wanted to marry and it couldn't be put past someone with a foul temper to do something foolish," I replied, and Holmes chuckled.

"Completely different from my own- but an interesting idea nonetheless." He picked up the violin again and began plucking the strings. "You have shown considerable skill, Miss Alex- you would make Scotland Yard proud."

I had no idea whether or not that was supposed to be insult or a compliment.

"I think you can drop the miss," I replied. "But it's all well we know this- how do we find the one who did the dirty work without raising suspicions? He had no qualms about poisoning John and I, so he'd have no problem with killing you."

"That would be a setback," he agreed, then placed the violin down and got up, walking over to stand in front of me with the look of a teacher correcting a pupil. ""But there are ways I can find out without being myself- and I would be most honoured if you would assist me in this part of our investigation."

"Sure," I replied, gears turning in my head as I tried to figure out what he meant.

"Well then- tomorrow we shall begin our chase," he informed me. "The mystery of the accomplice will be mystery no more- and then we can draw the net to a close, with all the fish still inside."


	21. Chapter 21: The Mission

One of Jacobson's staff was working for Stoper and was the one who has slipped the poison in the drinks. Our mission; to go undercover and discover who said person was- our gadgets; disguises, unsuspicious stories to go with said disguises and Holmes's multiple purpose tool kit. Did we accept the mission? Of course- we didn't have a choice in that.

The current members of staff under suspicion were Miss Isabella Crowe and Miss Eudora Fisher- the only two members of staff present at the time of Mrs Stroud's murder who were still have alive. The other staff had been dismissed on the grounds that they hadn't been there to kill Mrs Stroud.

"Makes it easier," I commented when Holmes told me.

"Is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he fixed his disguise.

"Well we only have two people to investigate," I pointed out, unable to stop looking at the rings we were both required to wear. Holmes and I were to play a married couple- so aside from the blonde wig and pink dress (Why pink? I hate pink!) I was having to wear, I had to pretend to married to someone who tried to make me drink thallium sulphate the other day. "Surely it's easier than having to investigate the entire members of staff?"

"It depends on how easy they make it," he replied, checking himself over in a mirror set on top of a pile of books. "They aren't to be going walking around, bragging about it."

"I know that." I traced one of the fangs on the tiger skin tug I was sitting on, wondering if I could ever meet a tiger that was actually alive- they were my favourite animals next to foxes. I wondered if Holmes had got this as a reward for solving a case, and made a mental note to ask about it at a later point. "But you're an u'expert at this- and there not likely to be, so surely it doesn't matter how hard it is? You're a lot better than them- you're the great Sherlock Holmes."

He chose to ignore the light sarcasm that had laced my final sentence, and walked over to me with a smug smirk plastering his face. Pulling me to my feet, he kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken- I'm Nicholas Woodley," he replied, looking at me in a way that almost made me believe him. "And you are my wife Rowena Woodley, who has recently learnt that she is expecting."

"I'm glad that part's made up," I muttered, my hands resting on his chest- from where a steady beat could be felt, unlike mine which was racing at the close contact. When would I ever find out what Holmes felt about me? More to the point- when would he accept what he was feeling? Holmes looked at me with a raised eyebrow, amusement written in his eyes.

"So you would like to marry me?" he asked, then chuckled. "You are probably the only woman who would think that."

"What?" I looked at him with surprise.

"Well, being a man of irregular nature and habits I would hardly make a suitable husband," he explained, though he knew that wasn't what I was surprised about. "Women these days prefer to blend in with the rest of society, only an exceptional few have ever broke out of that mediocrity and gained my respect and attention- you being one of them."

"Aren't I lucky," I replied sarcastically, and stepped out of his arms. "So are we going, dear?" I held out my arm as I tried to laugh at the look of shock crossed his face before he realised I was 'in role' and linked his arm with mine.

"We are," he replied, and we proceeded to leave his bedroom. "The hunt is afoot."

Upon leaving the building, we quickly hailed down a taxi and went on our way to a bar called _The Silver Serpent_- a classier version of _The Punch Bowl _according to Holmes, and not as entertaining to fight in. It was like a pub combined with a boxing arena, and at day was a place for anyone- but at night hosted a series of matches in some kind of tournament. It was here we were to find Miss Crowe and Miss Fisher, who presumably came here during their lunch breaks.

Upon walking inside, I was surprised to find the atmosphere more like one you'd expect in a restaurant; groups of people sitting at their tables or at the bar, chatting and laughing. Holmes hadn't been lying when he said the place was classier, although from the way he had talked about the place you would have thought he hated it. We took a seat in one of the booths that filled one wall, Holmes sitting next to me and taking my hand in his, smiling at me with a love he would never know as he ordered some drink I'd never heard of.

"Do you see them?" I asked, keeping a smile on my face in case anyone looked at us suspiciously. I had given the room a quick lookover already, but suspected that Holmes would have a better chance of spotting them and not just because I couldn't really remember what they looked like.

"No- though my sources told me that they may turn up anywhere between eleven and one," he replied, also looking around the room. "So all that remains is to wait patiently until they turn up."

"So we've got to just waste time here until they turn up and then approach them and interrogate them without arising their suspicion or anyone who might be working for Stoper." I poured some of the drink- some kind of white wine- into a glass and looked at it with mistrust. "I hope Nicholas Woodley is as good as Sherlock Holmes."

"He's certainly closer than any member of Scotland Yard," replied Holmes with a chuckle, pouring himself a drink.

He held out his glass and I bumped mine to his before we both took a sip, the sweet taste of the wine surprising me- finally, something that tastes nice.

"Are you nervous?" Holmes asked, and I looked at him with confusion. "Your palm is becoming sweaty." I looked to our linked hands, fingers laced together, and became aware of a blush working it's way onto my face.

"Figure it out, genius," I retorted, and he raised our hands to his face, kissing the back of my hand gently- watching my reaction with careful precision.

"Most intriguing," he commented, using our hands to prop up his head. "It seems you do seek some form of romantic relationship with me- a notion that puzzles me, as you know my thoughts on love and other such emotions."

I turned my head away from him, taking another sip from the glass and trying not to pay attention to him or the heat seeping from his body into mine.

"How about we focus less on me and more on the case," I suggested, finding the wall suddenly much more interesting.

"We have time," he replied.

"Just drop it," I snapped, and got to my feet in all intention of leaving.

"Where are you going?" he asked, alarm on his face.

"For some air," I replied moodily, and left him.

**/*/*/ Holmes's POV /*/*/**

I stared in confusion at her leaving figure, wondering what it was he had said that had upset her- I had only stated the truth, and we both knew it. Perhaps I had been attracted to her physically- even I could not deny these basic instincts entirely, a thought which annoyed me to no end, but we both knew that any sort of notion of a romantic relationship between the two of us was impossible. So why had it upset her?

Perhaps his actions had caused her mind to allow itself to believe there was something between them- certainly Watson seemed to believe this, and on the rare occasions he had visited since the ball he liked to mention it.

"_You like her," Watson said, after Miss Alex had left the room._

"_Of course I like her," I replied, looking through some of the letters I had received this morning- trivial matters that even Scotland Yard could handle. "She is a trusted colleague- the only one who hasn't deserted me."_

"_Stop pretending you don't know what I mean." I saw, however, by his reaction that he wanted to remark on my final comment. "You don't treat her like you do other women- except perhaps Miss Adler."_

"_And that constitutes to me liking her how?" I asked, ignoring the reference to Irene. "Besides- you have shown her a fair amount of interest as well."_

"_Don't start that again," he warned, and I knew I had got to him. "I am engaged to Mary."_

_Engaged to Mary- a poor excuse, he'd worked cases where a man turned out to have a mistress whom he loved much more than his wife- even the other way around. Marriage meant nothing to people when love was involved- another reason why he disliked that emotion and its self-destructive tendencies._

"_Yet you who usually shows restraint of physical contact with the fairer sex seem much more at ease with Miss Alex- even more so than with Miss Morstan," I commented in a nonchalant manner, watching his reaction carefully. "Perhaps this is a sign that you are not yet ready to give up on a life full of action? After all, you have often commented that Miss Alex reminds you of me- a disturbing notion as to why you show interest in her."_

"_I don't," replied Watson stoically. "If there is any sort of affection between us, it is as it would be between siblings. Besides, she obviously has feelings for you- I wouldn't want to be there when she met Irene, it's hard to imagine two women fighting over you of all people."_

_Alex meet Irene? I had to admit that Watson was right- in both that it was hard to imagine and that he wouldn't want to be present. Both were women of fiery nature and personality, so it would not be like the petty scraps of other women._

"_How do you know that your mind isn't creating excuses for you so you can pretend not to care for her?"_

"_Holmes!"_

"Holmes!"

I looked to see that Alex had returned, looking so unusual in her disguise, and obviously still annoyed at me.

"What is it?" I asked, when I saw the urgency in her eyes.

She looked over to the bar, and following her gaze I saw what had gained her attention- our two young suspects had turned up.


	22. Chapter 22: The Twist

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

**s POV /*/*/**

I sat down next to Holmes again as we watched the two enter out of the corner of our eyes, him no doubt running through a plan in his mind and me… well I was okay with waiting for him to come up with a plan. But luck was on our side, and it turned out we didn't need a plan because they came over and sat opposite us, both eye-raping Holmes- much to his discomfort and my annoyance.

"Why hello- you must be new around here, we've never seen you before," gushed Miss Crowe, fluttering her long eyelashes. "You can call me Isabella, and my friend here Eudora- what is your name?"

I was getting deliberately ignored by the straightforward Isabella, whilst Eudora sent a cold look my way as Holmes held my hand again and used it to prop up his head.

"My name is Nicholas Woodley, and this here is my lovely wife Rowena," Holmes replied, pretending to be ignorant of their true intentions. "Are you ladies married yourselves?"

I coughed to cover a small laugh, reading the hidden meaning that only someone from my time could have got- and Holmes of course, his interrogations hadn't been for nothing and he winked at me as the women looked at me questioningly.

"No- we are single unfortunately," replied Eudora with an exaggerated sigh. "Though we are looking for a handsome young man to spend time with."

"Well good luck with that," I replied, suitable traces of anger in my tone that only a husband-stealing woman or Holmes would notice. "I'm sure there is someone in this place who you would like."

"We've already found one," replied Isabella, looking at me with cold eyes, and I would have said something very abusive then had Holmes not squeezed my hand as a quick reminder, he also subtly raised an eyebrow and I knew he would be questioning me about this afterwards.

"Perhaps you should introduce yourselves to him," suggested Holmes, and then kissed me on the cheek. "I'm sure he wouldn't deny two lovely young ladies such as yourselves the pleasure of your company- you see we are celebrating here, and unless you could offer us some other reason to celebrate- such as a job around this wonderful city."

"Not from around here are you?" asked Eudora, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You could perhaps to Lord Jacobson- he's the man we work for and he could give both you and your wife a job."

I did a mental victory cheer as we finally got to the topic we needed to hear about.

"My wife can't work, she's expecting," replied Holmes with a chuckle, and I saw disgust flash through both their eyes. "But Lord Jacobson- he owns that company along with Lord Stoper doesn't he?"

"That's right," said Eudora, whilst Isabella blushed- a crush on Stoper perhaps? Strong enough to poison someone for him? "I'm assuming you want to move to London? Lord Jacobson could provide temporary accommodation for you whilst you look."

"Really?" exclaimed Holmes. "But perhaps it would be best for Rowena and I to remain at the hotel until we can find suitable accommodation- after all we do have a child on the way and we wouldn't want to be a bother."

I tried to imagine a life where Holmes and I were married and actually expecting a child. It wouldn't be your everyday Victorian wedding, that's for a sure- a couple who go about solving crimes and chasing down bad guys. But that was all we were- a couple of people who solved crimes and chased down bad guys. To be honest though, I was more worried that my time around Holmes was turning me into a depressing person with all of my unrequited love bull.

I mean I know people would tell me I had a better chance of having a relationship with Watson- and he would never abandon Mary. Besides he didn't like me that way, and even though he was good looking I didn't feel that kind of attraction towards him either.

"Rowena?"

I broke out of my thoughts to see all three of them looking at me, and shook my head in apology.

"I'm sorry," I replied, rubbing at my nose to feign embarrassment.

"My Rowena- always daydreaming," chuckled Holmes, planting a kiss on my cheek. "It's a wonder she can get anything done."

The two women laughed along accordingly, and I forced a smile onto my face as I resisted the urge to hurt them- badly. I mean I know I'd been kidnapped, poisoned, shot and otherwise- but that didn't mean I wasn't free to complain about these women.

"What about Lord Stoper? I heard that he might have complete control over the company soon."

Isabella's eyes widened in surprise, but also suspicion.

"I hadn't heard that," commented Eudora, obviously not involved in the plot. It was no doubt suspicious to Holmes that it should so easily be discovered- although I was more concerned about how we were going to make her confess. "Who told you that?"

"Just some people," Holmes replied with a shrug. "They were going on about how Lord Jacobson was feeling pressured after some recent incidents at his house- and apparently Lord Stoper's unsympathetic response to these was making him question their partnership."

"Really?" asked Eudora, interested in the new gossip she was getting, whilst Isabella looked uncomfortable and even a little enraged. "What response was this then?"

"Apparently Lord Stoper became angry when he showed concern for his servants, saying that they were not important and were hardly worth the money he paid them."

"That's a lie!" snapped Isabella, and we looked at her in surprise. She blushed brightly, but did not make any attempt to apologise. "Lord Stoper is a brilliant man- Lord Jacobson is the horrible man."

"How would you know?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned confusion. "Surely you only work for Lord Jacobson?"

"Maybe so- but I have met Lord Stoper on occasion," she replied coldly.

"But surely 'on occasion' is not to enough to form a proper opinion of someone," I pressed.

What happened next caught us all by surprise, a faint bang, a smash, silence and then the screams as Isabella fell to the floor- shot through the head. Holmes and I quickly looked out of the window, our eyes looking for the assassin before spotting him on a nearby roof where he gave us a mock salute and ran off.

We immediately got up and ran out of the bar, dodging crowds of people as we chased the assassins path along the ground. He leapt across the rooftops, until he came to a dead end and was forced to run into the building. A bunch of giggling women stood on the doorstep, and we barged past them without a word of apology as we raced up the stairs. Holmes ran off as my legs began to ache, the question of Holmes decision to make me wear high-heels coming to mind as I apologised to an old man Holmes had apparently pushed out of the way.

I was almost at the roof when Holmes came running back down, looking distressed as he ran into each of the rooms and checked each one thoroughly before coming out. He leant against the railing and stroked his fake beard carefully as he coughed to cover his embarrassment.

"Where is he?" I asked, although I had a feeling I knew the answer.

"He appears to have given us the slip," he replied casually, waving his arm in a dismissal. "There was no time for a retreat into any of the other buildings or enough time to disguise himself."

"And you figured this out how?" I asked, not feeling entirely convinced that we had lost the assassin- whom I believed may have been one Colonel Sebastian Moran.

"If you would like to go and search each of the buildings and interrogate each of the people you are most welcome," replied Holmes angrily, and I stared after him in surprise as he headed downstairs. "I have solved the crime and that is enough for me- leave the arresting to Scotland Yard, if they ever figure out the true criminal."

"So you're just going to leave it?" I queried, wondering why this sudden mood change had come over him.

"Lord Stoper has lost his little weapon so I doubt there will be anymore poisoning- and it is unlikely that we can get a dead girl to make a confession," he replied. "Besides, I have something else that requires my attention."

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

Lord Jacobson did retire from the company, leaving both leadership and his great hall to Lord Stoper- who was much later poisoned by nightshade the poisoner never being found and Holmes not being around to solve the case. But that is a story for another time, because it was time for another chapter to begin and this is how it started.

Holmes had been keeping himself busy, and hadn't come out of his room in a while. So I had been trying to entertain myself by exploring Victorian England, and had been arguing with a baker about bread when I received quite a surprise.

"That's not white bread- it's black!" I protested, looking at the burnt loaf set before me.

"It's as good a loaf as any," replied the man, arms folded across his chest as he glared at me.

"As good a burnt loaf as any," I replied with a snort, and the man went to say something no doubt very rude to me when something touched my leg and I jumped in surprise, looking down to see a bulldog sniffing at me leg.

"Alex?"

I looked to the dogs master, and was indeed surprised to see Watson standing there.

"Hi John," I replied, a smile spreading on my face as I shook hands with the doctor. "How are you?"

"I'm fine- how are you and Holmes?"

We started to walk the streets together, falling in step next to each other and ignoring the baker who began yelling at us.

"I'm fine," I replied and then shrugged. "I couldn't say about Holmes- he's been hiding in his room for a while."

"I hope he hasn't forgotten that I'm getting married tomorrow," Watson chuckled, although I could tell he meant it. I laughed along with him, trying not to let it show that I had also forgotten about his wedding.

A Game Of Shadows was about to begin.


	23. Chapter 23: The Revelation

Watson opened the door to Holmes's room, revealing what appeared to be some sort of tropical rainforest- I could hear all sorts of animals in there and Watson looked at it in exasperation before we headed in, using his cane to beat away the plants.

"Your hedge needs trimming," he commented, and Holmes replied in a whisper so quiet I wasn't actually sure I'd heard him.

"Where am I?"

"In this room?" I guessed, following Watson as he led the way.

"I don't care where you are," Watson replied. "I'm not going to play this game, I have to catch the last-"

He was interrupted as an arrow hit him in the back, and we both looked at it- or rather he tried to since it was in his back.

"Oh, oh- that's you dead I'm afraid," we he heard him say, and my eyes automatically drifted over to his disguised figure.

"Try shooting me Holmes and you'll regret it," I warned him.

"You win," Watson said, sitting down in his chair. "I lose. Game over."

He had at this time picked up his newspaper, and as I sat down on Holmes's chair a hole appeared in the newspaper. Watson put it down, and I spotted another arrow sticking out of his chest.

"Still don't see me?" asked Holmes, and as he stepped away from his hiding spot I tried not to laugh at how much more ridiculous he looked in real life. "_Quelle surprise_."

He pulled the hood off and looked at us both expectantly.

"I'm not taking you out dressed like that," Watson replied, and I coughed to cover my laughter.

"Would you prefer it if I joined you in the fashion _faus pas _of wearing fine military dress with that heinous handmade scarf?" asked Holmes, raising an eyebrow as he looked at said scarf. "Clearly an early attempt of you fiancées."

"Oh how I've missed you, Holmes," Watson commented, not bothering to remove the arrows sticking out of him.

"Have you?" replied Holmes. "Why I've barely noticed your absence. Then again I'm knee-deep in research; extracting fluids from the adrenaline glands of sheep and designing my own urban camouflage. All the while verging on a decisive breakthrough in the single most important case of my career- perhaps of all time."

"Sounds fun," I commented, ignoring the annoyed look I received from the detective who had apparently been in a bad mood with me since the poisoning case. Heaven knows why all I did was ask him why he hadn't 'officially' brought the case to a close, I mean I know we'd figured the whole thing out but it would have been better if we could have caught Moran- but then again we'd have ruined the plot for this timeline.

"Doctor!"

We all looked as Mrs Hudson emerged from the jungle, carrying a tray in her arms that appeared to have a bowl covered in towel. Holmes walked over and picked up the towel, revealing a couple of mice running around under glass bowl and I mentally sent my condolences out to them as I knew that somewhere in the room was a snake ready for feeding- though what kind of snake it was I didn't know. Some kind of cobra? Nothing too big- but not something too small knowing Holmes, something that lives in a forest… anaconda perhaps? I came back to earth as Watson and Mrs Hudson approached one another, the latter pulling one of the arrows of the poor doctor- Holmes gone to feed said snake, and before I could even ask him as well.

"Doctor, you must get him to a sanatorium!" exclaimed Mrs Hudson, and it was easy to see why she thought that. "For the past month, he's taken nothing but coffee, tobacco and cocoa leaves. He never sleeps! I hear multiple voices, as if he's rehearsing a play!"

"He hasn't let me near him" I said in reply to Watson's looking at me, holding my arms up in protest. "Apparently my questions about why he dropped the poisoning case are that bad."

"He dropped the case?" queried Watson, although he didn't seem that surprised- no doubt saw the headline in the newspaper the other day.

"I had already solved it" Holmes replied, as he reappeared over Mrs Hudson shoulder like a nutcase ninja, scowling at her. "Don't you have a goat that needs worming?"

"Ah, yes, such fun," Mrs Hudson replied unenthusiastically. "What would I do without you?"

"Why are you here?" Holmes asked the doctor, as she made the journey back through the jungle.

"I'm getting married," replied the irate doctor. "Tomorrow."

"Ah! Embrace me!"

"You forgot didn't you?" I asked, though it was more of a statement than a question- it was kind of obvious that he'd forgot.

"No I did not," Holmes replied stiffly, turning to look at me. "Although I will admit that with my current project on-going it may have momentarily slipped my mind."

"What project?" asked Watson, still annoyed but also curious. Holmes grinned and walked over to Watson's old office, I got up as well and went over to join them both as Holmes swung open the doors.

"I see you've made good use of my old office," commented Watson.

Newspaper clippings covered the walls, red string tied to each of them in an intricate web that all led back to one man- Professor James Moriarty. Holmes explained it all to Watson, and looked at some of the articles- finding the one on Dr Hoffmanstahl, who supposedly died of a heart attack.

"You're drinking embalming fluid."

I turned in time to see Holmes drinking the formaldehyde, and Watson holding up the bottle- I was behind him so I couldn't see his reaction, but I bet he wasn't happy about it. I just hoped that it didn't have any side effects with human consumption.

"Yes. Care for a drop?"

"You do seem…"

"Excited?" offered Holmes.

"Manic," replied Watson. "Verging on…"

"Ecstatic?"

"Psychotic." He paused. "I should have brought you a sedative."

"And a straitjacket," I added.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" snapped Holmes; and Watson looked between us with a frown.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, and I shook my head in reply- he was a doctor, not a therapist and even if he was I doubt even the best shrink could figure out what goes on his head. "You two seem to be set against each other."

"He's against me!" I protested, folding my arms across my chest. "Just because I asked him why he dropped the case."

"I didn't drop it- I had solved the case and there was no need to trouble myself with the pursuit of aiding the police," replied Holmes coldly. "I don't see how it matters anymore seeing as Stoper is dead anyway."

"Why _did _you drop that case?" asked Watson.

"I already explained that," replied Holmes, somewhat annoyed as he drank some more formaldehyde. "Were you not listening to me Watson?"

"I was hoping you could go into more detail," replied Watson.

I chose this moment to walk out of the room, noticing Holmes eyes following me before the rest of him did and Watson was left protesting as Holmes ignored him. But that stopped when I saw Gladstone collapse on the ground.

"How many times are you going to kill my dog, Holmes?" asked Watson, coming to kneel next to the dog. Holmes quickly dashed back into the office and brought out a syringe, stabbing it into the dog; who got up seconds later like there had been nothing wrong.

"What was that?"

"Adrenaline," replied Holmes, getting to his feet again. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to speak to Alex and clear up any bad feelings between us."

He took me by the arm, leading me through the jungle, out of his room and into mine. He sat down on my bed, looking at me stoically as I leant against the wall with my arms folded across my chest.

"Are you going to sit down?" he asked.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" I countered, and he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If I tell you why I quit the case will you come to Watson's stag party?"

I stared back in surprise,

"Say what?" He looked confused at my exclamation, but didn't get a chance to ask. "I thought stag parties were just for men?"

"Normally yes, but-" began Holmes, looking uncomfortable.

"You completely forgot about it," I finished for him.

"I was busy in my research- it slipped my mind," he replied, annoyed, and I went to sit next to him on the bed.

"If it's that important to you," I replied nonchalantly, mentally contemplating whether it was better to stay with Watson or Holmes for that time- the options being either get involved with an assassin or a drunken brawl. "Now keep up your side of the deal."

"The reason I 'dropped the case' as you put it is because a new piece of information became known to me," he replied, then looked at me seriously. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a meeting with Moriarty?"


	24. Chapter 24: The Discussion

**/*/*/ Holmes's POV /*/*/**

I watched her eyes widen in surprise and fear, the blood draining from her face and she opened her mouth to reply before shaking her head and closing it again. She averted her gaze to the floor and started fidgeting with the cuff of the too-large shirt she was earing- stolen from me of course. I could see that she was trying to find the right words to say, but we both knew that that whatever she said wouldn't change the past and even though I should have told her that I was more curious than angry, I didn't.

"He told me that if I told you, then he'd just have you killed straight away," she replied, the blood now returning to her face in the form of a light blush. "I didn't know how he'd find out if I did- but I didn't want him to hurt you."

I didn't know how to respond to that, emotions weren't my forte after all- especially when it came to dealing with the fairer sex.

"What did he want?" I asked, changing the subject away from that area instead.

"I don't know," she replied with a frown, chewing on her lip as she concentrated. "He didn't seem to want anything in particular- but I think he was trying to understand our relationship because he kept asking questions about what I thought of you and what you thought of me. At first I thought he was trying to figure out whether I would be valuable as a hostage or blackmail, but then he started asking me about my home and family. He asked me if I missed being at home, if I thought my family missed them and what the must be thinking about my disappearance."

She paused, and I contemplated what it was that Moriarty was hoping to achieve- he couldn't know that she was from another time, could he? The idea hadn't crossed my mind at all until I had found her phone, and even if he did think himself smarter I doubt that he had ever considered this. Perhaps he had been trying to make her feel guilty, in hopes that she would go home- but then he would lose some leverage over me, even though there was still Watson to contemplate and if he were to chose one of my companions to threaten it would make more sense to choose Watson.

"Did he mention anything about Watson?" I asked, voicing my thoughts and she shook her head. "Not even once?"

"Not at all," she confirmed.

Perhaps it was because he already knew of the strength of the bond between us, or perhaps he was up to something else that required the presence of our lady friend.

"I sense something most sinister," I mused out loud, and she looked at me in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Obviously Moriarty has his eye on you," I replied. "He must have some sort of plan if he told you not to tell me and then revealed it to me anyway."

I studied Alex carefully, wondering what it was that Moriarty hoped to achieve with her and why her rather than Watson. Her long black hair with its unusual red was tied back in a loose ponytail which trailed down her back had grown even longer during her time here and all attempts to get her to allow me to cut it had been in vain, her pale skin no longer gave her the illusion of being ill and her dark blue eyes still showed the rebellious look that had gained my interest. A hatred of dressed and skirts left her dressed in black trousers that hung loosely off her waist, and –of course- the white shirt that she had stolen off me with the top couple of buttons undone so I could see her throat and collarbones. The cut she had on her head when we first met had long since healed, but there was still a faint mark there which only a trained eye could see- and no doubt the scars from other ordeals were still present on her body.

I then compared her to Irene. If they had gone out she would have no doubt worn a flashy dress that was designed to catch my attention, whilst Alex would have been happy in what she was wearing currently- appearance was never a concern to her, unless she was asked to wear something that had a strong female feel about it- which in a way reminded him of myself, the only time appearance mattered to me was when I required a disguise or I was looking to deduce a clients occupation and habits. Irene, however, even though she stood out from the rest of female crowd, still possessed some of the traits- a care for appearance, the need for a male partner and a love of jewellery. Alex on the other hand didn't- although she did seem to be fond of her hair's unusual colour, and although Watson seemed insistent that she was… in love with me- previous encounters noted- she did not seem to be desperate for a male partner, and as for jewellery I had yet to see her wear any outside disguises- even during out first meeting with Miss Morstan she did not wear any.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, noticing my gaze on her and a confused look crossing her face.

"You," I replied, and the look changed to annoyance and she seemed to be contemplating hitting me- not for the first time.

"Yes, but why?"

"I was simply wondering what it is about you that has Moriarty whisking you away in his carriage," I replied nonchalantly, but making sure to observe her reaction carefully. "You certainly don't possess a level of intelligence equal to ours and your observational skills are quite… dull."

"You're so charming," she replied sarcastically, making me chuckle- she didn't care much for politeness and was quite eager to respond to an insult with an insult, forgiveness coming much later. "What's so funny?"

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

He was still staring at me, but had a small smirk on his face as he waved off my question.

"It was just something I thought," he replied dismissively, and I wondered if I could learn to read minds.

"What did you think?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think it really concerns you, does it?" he pointed out, and I rolled my eyes.

"I wouldn't know- I can't read minds," I replied.

I was glad that he didn't appear to be mad at me concerning my meeting with Moriarty- and yes, that really was what it was about. No little hidden secrets anywhere- promise. But I was wondering if Holmes actually believed this or if he was just playing along for my sake, secretly watching every move I made and judging if it were perhaps a better option to get rid of me.

"A fact which I'm sure had spared people sleepless nights," he replied with a chuckle, and I raised an eyebrow- Watson was right about his weirdness. Speaking of Watson, I wondered how he'd react to the news that I'd been invited along to his stag party- though I'm pretty sure that he guessed Holmes had completely forgotten. On the plus side, I could now meet Mycroft- played by the brilliant Stephen Fry, a thought which made me miss QI.

Holmes continued to watch me, and so on impulse I reached out and ran a hand through his hair- though his defensive nature kicked in and he quickly grabbed my hand as he looked at me in confusion.

"Your hair's gotten longer," I commented, unable to move my hand from his head.

"And you needed to touch it to find that out?" he asked, and I rolled my eyes again.

"I told you before- I can't help it," I replied. "I just want to touch your hair."

He moved his other hand round to the back of my head and then manoeuvred my arm so that I was now a lot closer to him.

"I'm sure there are people who just want to touch thing who can show some self-restraint," he commented. "You seem to be one of the few who either can't or doesn't care much for society's standards."

"Your society's standards," I pointed out. "I've more than once had my hair ruffled by annoying classmates."

"I'll bet you have," he replied, and I didn't have chance to question him before he pressed his lips against mine and kissed me passionately. But this time I didn't want to and pushed him away, ignoring the unreadable expression in his eyes as I tried to express what I was thinking in my eyes. Do you actually like me? Or am I just away for you to satisfy the natural cravings of your body? I knew it was stupid to expect something from him like a proper relationship, but I would no doubt sleep easier at night knowing that he did care about me to some degree.

But even if he was going to respond, he didn't get a chance to as Watson came into the room and quickly averted his gaze from as he waited for us to separate.

"Are you to finished making up"? He asked, looking back at us as a blush crossed my face.

"Did you come in here for something of importance?" asked Holmes, raising an eyebrow. "Or did you just feel lonely?"

"I felt like I should remind you to get changed- as I said before, you aren't going out dressed like that," he replied, and I looked back at the 'urban camouflage' he was sporting- he looked stupid.

"And Alex of course," Holmes added, and Watson looked at him with a frown. "We can't forget her."

"Holmes- it's a stag party," replied Watson with annoyance.

"An obvious fact," Holmes stated. "Why do you bring it up?"

"Alex is a woman," he pointed out, and I didn't speak out less I face Mother Hen's wrath.

"Another obvious fact," stated Holmes again. "You are on a roll my dear Watson."

"A stag party is for men- Alex can't come," Watson exclaimed in anger, his nerves now having a Holmes on them. "Don't tell me you actually forgot all about it."

"Are you suggesting that we leave our valuable companion here by herself?" asked Holmes in faked shock. "That is most unlike you Watson- you are a gentleman as well as a doctor after all."

"Holmes-" began Watson.

"Beside we'd already made a deal, and upon keeping her half I must keep mine," he continued, striking a noble pose. "Unlike you I respect our colleague despite her… obvious differences."

"Which means he did forget," I translated.


	25. Chapter 25: The Automobile

In an attempt to appease Watson- and partially due to my hatred of dresses- I had decided to join them on this lovely evening dressed as a man. Well, that's how Holmes phrased it- I preferred to think of it as just going as myself, I mean you don't see many men with breasts- not skinny men anyway. Of course this required borrowing more clothes of Holmes in order to look decent; a jacket, his hat and a waistcoat. The waistcoat forced on me by Watson because I was refusing to wear a corset, replying that I liked my oxygen quite a lot. I also refused to wear the goggles required when I got into the automobile, wedged between the two- one of whom was wearing a most ridiculous disguise.

"Mm, because no one will recognise you," I said to the detective, giving his fake beard a quick tug. "Is that really the best disguise you could do, Santa?"

"But that's the point," replied Holmes, looking about wearily at the people who were staring at him as they passed. "It's so overt it's covert."

"I think my disguise is better," I replied, and I could see his eyes automatically dart across my disguise- one obvious flaw to it that if he dared mention I could also just as easily point out that it wasn't a disguise.

"Ladies, you're both pretty," Watson said with some sarcasm. "Now if we could actually make this a somewhat enjoyable experience I would be grateful."

"Do you not trust us, dear Watson?" asked Holmes, still looking about cautiously. "How disappointing."

"Well you did forget all about my marriage tomorrow," pointed out Watson.

I rolled my eyes, feeling as if I were sitting between a married couple- or rather wedged between a married couple, seeing as it was made for two people not four; this of course mean we had to limit movement so we didn't end up elbowing each other. This also meant that Watson was extremely uncomfortable at having to sit so close to me, even more so given that I was dressed like a man and everyone was looking at us as we drove past.

"Marriage," Holmes said with distaste. "A most dreadful road to take."

"There's nothing wrong with getting married," Watson replied sternly.

"Annihilation!" protested Holmes.

"Rebirth," countered Watson.

"Restriction!"

"Structure."

"Answering to a woman!"

"Being in a relationship, having a home- the possibility of a family." There was a small pause in which Holmes glared at me for having hit him, I was responding with a look of fake innocence. "Who wants to die alone?"

"Right, so you'll get married tomorrow, settle down with Mary and I'll…" I saw his eyes dart to me quickly before looking back ahead. "Die alone."

"In a big, dirty hole in the ground," I confirmed for him, trying not to let it show that what he said had hurt me- I wasn't that pathetic that I'd let a statement like that bother me. "Filled with all sorts of bugs."

"What a cheerful person you are to be around," Holmes commented sarcastically.

We soon arrived at our destination, and we all got out of the vehicle with silent relief whilst Watson commented on how good it was.

"Automobile." We turned to see a figure emerge from on overhanging roof- Mycroft Holmes. "Soon there'll be one in every home in the country."

"Loitering in the woodshed again are we, Myckie?" asked Holmes.

"Good evening, Shirley," greeted the other, who for all the world looked nothing like his younger brother- surprise, surprise. "I see your boot maker is ill, dear brother."

"I detect that you have recently changed the brand of soap with which you shave," replied Holmes.

"May I point out that the chimney in the front room of Baker Street is still in need of a damn food sweeping out?"

"Are you aware that the hackney carriage in which you arrived had a damaged wheel?"

"Yes, the left "confirmed Mycroft. "And it's plain to the meanest intelligence that you have recently acquired a new bow for your violin."

"Same bow, new strings," corrected Holmes.

"Do you feel a little left out?" I asked Watson as we watched the exchange with some amazement, and he nodded slightly.

"May I deduce that you, Mycroft- nice to meet you by the way," began Watson, holding out his hand to which Mycroft protested.

"No," he said. "I don't."

"He doesn't," confirmed Holmes.

"May I deduce that you," continued Watson. "Who never strays from the path between your home and the Diogenes' Club and never on a Monday when they serve your favourite potted shrimps must be here for some far more important reason than my stag party?"

Mycroft turned to look at Holmes with an amused smile on his face.

"You know he's nothing like as slow-witted as you've led me to believe, Shirley." Then he turned to us two as Holmes looked down at the ground in what I assumed was awkwardness. "Though I might deduce the same seeing as you have a young lady with you. You must be the Miss Vargas that my dear brother mentioned."

"I am," I confirmed, wondering when he mentioned this to his brother- although he did tend to do a lot without me knowing, the forest being only an example- and I knew that was going to happen as well.

"Well I can tell just from your appearance why Shirley is intrigued by you," he commented in a way that left doubts as to whether he was talking about my clothes or me. "I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

"Can't complain," I replied with a half-hearted shrug, and I saw Holmes watching me carefully- we both knew that wasn't true, and I'm sure Watson and perhaps even Mycroft knew that. "It makes for some interesting days."

"I'll bet it does," he agreed, then went on to explaining about why he was here- delivering my favourite line 'But I can tell you they speak French and German'. We headed indoors, Holmes walking beside me with the beard long gone and his eyes alert, paying particular attention the occasional man who would look at me questioningly.

"Perhaps it would have been best for you to dress in the correct attire of the fairer sex," Holmes commented, and I looked at him with a frown on my face- normally he wasn't one to care about what I did or dressed like. "You are drawing far too much attention to us."

"At least this way they're uncomfortable enough not to try flirting with me or anything," I pointed out, and he shook is head. "What?"

"Watson and I could easily defer any attempts," he replied, looking ahead and carrying himself with a straight spine. "You should place more trust in us."

"I do trust you- I just don't want to ruin the evening for you both." I was wondering what was going on with Holmes, and I noticed Watson give me a questioning look to which I replied with a shrug.

"And I'm sure Alex could take care of herself," he added, and Holmes pretended he hadn't heard. By now Mycroft was listening in on the conversation and I could see his gaze darting between me and his brother as arrived at our table. Watson and I sat down, Holmes did the same shortly afterwards as Mycroft and him shared a look. But seconds later he was up again and offering his hand to me, looking at me intently.

"I've just remembered that we didn't finish our conversation earlier," he said in way of explanation, and Watson looked at his in annoyance as he no doubt remembered the position we were in upon his entering. He gave a look imploring me not to go with Holmes, and I smiled apologetically before taking Holmes's hand and letting him lead me away from the crowds. We went into one of the back rooms which I could have sworn was where Watson would re-emerge after his fight, and Holmes leant back against the wall as he studies me carefully- the way he always did before speaking to me. "As a man who does not concern himself with matters of the heart it is against my nature to ask such a question, but curiosity has overwhelmed me and I must ask as to why you pushed me away? It seemed like you might have something to say to me regarding our relationship."

"That's exactly it- our 'relationship'," I replied and he looked at me in confusion. "I have no idea where I stand with you; you introduce me as a colleague, you claim you have no interest in love or women, some days you treat me with contempt and yet there are the days when you do the opposite with your kissing. Now correct me if I'm wrong but people don't go around kissing their colleagues- especially when they have no interest in that sort of relationship which often makes me wonder if I'm just an experiment to you and if you keep me around just because you can't let go of Watson."

There was a long silence, Holmes still watching me without showing any signs of reaction to my mini speech whilst I regretted it- this was why I had never brought it up before, because there is no way to guarantee how such a man will react to something like that.

"An interesting analysis," he finally said, bringing his hand up to his mouth in a way that reminded me of an artist studying his latest work. "I can why such a problem has been bothering you and I'm not quite sure how to react to this without hurting you."

He held out his other hand to me, and I could feel my heart sinking as I walked over and took it. Hurting me? This was going to end badly, and I was half tempted to just go back to Watson and pretend this never happened. He moved his other hand from his face and wrapped it around my wait, pulling me close to him- all the while his gaze never stopped watching my every reaction.

"As you no doubt know concepts such as love and marriage do not appeal to me in the slightest," he began, freeing my hand in order to lift my chin up so I was looking at him. "And I'm sure that if you were to ask anyone- even Irene- they would tell you that there is no hope of a romantic relationship with me. Of course there are those that believe that loves is easy to come and hard to dismiss, which I no doubt didn't believe- although I could never prove it, or so I thought. Your arrival, which at first seemed like a chance to solve a most elusive case, became the chance to prove it when the curiosity that you brought forth in me changed to respect and then something else. I was amazed by how you could bring forth such a reaction in me, and how you managed to uncover the emotions I had put away and so I decided to test it out, that would be our first intimate encounter in the room above _The Punch Bowl -_ where I kissed your ear. Then we had the whole ordeal where you were kidnapped, and the scene in the hospital where you were the one to initiate that kiss which first revealed your true feelings for me. Thus followed your seduction in the carriage, the almost kiss after the fake warning, the other almost kiss regarding your habit of touching my hair, then the more intimate kiss after your meeting with Moriarty and finally our brief kiss earlier which you broke due to uncertainty. We've done a great deal more than society would normally allow a non-married couple to, not that it bothers either of us and it's given me plenty of chances to study our relationship and as brought me to the conclusion that I am quite fond of you and as long as marriage is not concerned I am prepared enough to take our relationship to a romantic level."

I hadn't really got what he was trying to say until the end of that speech, and I struggled to say anything as I was so shocked. Holmes had just basically said he wanted to be my boyfriend- he had not admitted that he loved me, but this was not what I had expected to hear- I was expecting him to deny any sort of feelings and just leave me.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, looking at me with curiosity. "Did I upset you?"

I shook my head, then starting laughing and wrapped my arms around his neck as I hugged him. When I pulled back he looked very confused, and I ran a hand through my hair as I blushed.

"Sorry," I apologised. "But that wasn't what I'd expected you to say."

"I know," he replied, before placing a kiss on my lips. "But there are still further experiments to do regarding intimate relationships- and I'm sure you can help me out."

I didn't know whether he was joking or not, but at that moment I didn't care and as he pulled me into another kiss I could almost forget the voice at the back of my head that was reminding me of upcoming events- and the possibility I might never see him after that.


	26. Chapter 26: The Assassin

**/*/*/ Hol****e****mes's POV /*/*/**

Alex's reaction to my proposal was not the one I had expected, but then again she wasn't what society would consider normal- my society anyway- and it did leave me feeling as though I should properly explain what I mean. But to snatch it from her would be crueller than to pretend- plus this way I could further experiment with these emotions and see if I could learn more about them. Alex would have no doubt disapproved if she knew I was using our relationship as an experiment- although a smart girl like herself no doubt had her suspicions.

What would Watson think of this? As the question crossed my mind, he thought back to how he had declared her as like a young sister to himself. Surely he would be defensive over her? Especially seeing as he knew about my personality and habits better than she. He would disapprove of this greatly- even more so if he knew what my true purposes were behind this. However any anger he received from Watson would be dwarfed by that of Miss Alex.

"Perhaps we'd best get back," I suggested, and she blushed slightly as she brushed a rebel strand of hair back out of her face. "Before they decide to come back and find us."

"Too late."

Alex automatically steps out of my arms as both Watson and Mycroft appear in the doorway- judging from Watson's annoyed look he has seen more than he'd like too. There is no obvious reaction in his brother's eye- at least not one that anyone other than myself could decipher.

"Shouldn't you be enjoying your party?" I queried, raising an eyebrow as he walked over to Alex and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry- I can assure you that there is nothing wrong between us."

"Are you alright?" Watson asked her quietly, ignoring me and she nodded in reply. "Be careful."

We all knew what he meant by that, and there was a heavy silence in the room as warnings were sent. For someone who was getting married tomorrow, he was showing a lot more compassion to Alex than was perhaps normal and I wondered if I was the only one experimenting. After all, it was a fact that mild adultery is common among married soldiers- and although Watson himself was more a medical man he had still the military air about him.

"I thought you were enjoying your stag party?" I asked Watson nonchalantly, and his gaze switched back to me. "Don't let us ruin it for you."

"I'm not worried about Alex ruining it," he replied, and I chuckled at the underlying message. "Now how about we get back- assuming you two have finished your… conversation."

"We have," replied Alex, rubbing at her nose in embarrassment.

Mycroft turned and left, shortly followed by Watson and Alex- the latter of whom looked at me one last time before allowing him to lead her out. I waited a moment, questions running through my mind before I followed them and headed back to our table where Mycroft proceeded to leave us on our own.

I stood up to give a toast to our dear Watson, when I looked up and saw a familiar figure making his way around upstairs.

"What are you looking at, Holmes?" asked Watson, his voice breaking through my thoughts. I returned my attention back to them both and excused myself, eager to follow this trail to its end.

**/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/**

"What on earth is that man up to?" Watson queried, as we watch him head off into the crowd. "He can't seem to keep his mind in line- somewhat of a worry."

"Perhaps he's working on his web," I suggested, already knowing the events that were going to happen and eager to divert any questions he might have about the goings-on in the back room. But my hopes were in vain and that was indeed the very next thing he brought up.

"I'm assuming Holmes has offered you a … romantic relationship?" he asked, swirling the contents of his drink as he stared down at it with feigned interest. I turned my attention the table, letting the conversations of the other men swirl around me and pretended to think about the question.

"He did," I replied casually, the words sounding wrong in my mouth and my mind still reeling in the shock of it all. "Not what I had expected him to say."

"Nor I," he agreed. "In fact I'm sure no one could have guessed that, which is why I'm concerned. I'm sure that you know by now that romance and even general social skills are not Holmes's strongpoint- and I'm worried that he might be using you in some sort of… study of human nature."

"Well don't worry," I replied, looking the doctor in the eye in a move of confidence, ignoring the concerned gaze reflecting from them. "I'm well aware that this could all be some experiment- but I'm willing to play the game and if he hurts me, I'm more than capable of looking after myself."

I didn't mention that when my last boyfriend- my first boyfriend- broke up with me, I had looked after myself my burying the heartbreak in the deepest part of my being and placing a wall of positive emotions around it that left me feeling fake as I walked around with a smile plastered on my face- which according to the friends I had was scarier than any other reaction. When I had finally broken down I had to go to hospital after punching a mirror, breaking down in tears and then spending days after loathing myself for being so weak. But I didn't have to tell Watson that at all because my grip had tightened on the glass and he could somewhat guess what I was thinking about- all that time with Holmes hadn't been for nothing after all.

"I'm sure you are," he said, leaning forward slightly and holding my gaze- I'd never realised his eyes were so blue. "But that doesn't change the fact that it would hurt you- it would hurt for longer as well because you would be living with the man who had done this to you, and in all probability you would never get over it."

"Then I'll lock myself in my room," I replied lightly, trying to make it sound like a joke but failing. I took a sip of the drink I had been given- some sort of alcohol- and pretending it didn't bother me. "Now don't let me ruin your night- go and enjoy yourself whilst I find out where that man got to."

By 'that man' I meant Holmes, and as the words left my mouth I scanned the area above us in an attempt to locate him- and of course the assassin and Madame Simza. But everything appeared to be calm, so he must have still been conversing with the gypsy fortune-teller.

"I'm sorry if this upsets you, but I am worried for you." He averted his gaze back to his drink, and I cleared my throat before excusing myself from the table and heading off to find Holmes. I headed up the stairs, finding myself on the first ring where I made my way through the individual 'rooms'- if you could call them that- o my search for the next stairs. Keeping my gaze ahead, I ignored the sights I saw as I continued my journey- drunk men, couples in intimate embraces and even a mix of the two.

"Nice to see some things don't change," I muttered under my breath as I found the stairs and headed up the ring. Angry shouts could be heard from my right, and I ran through the rooms in an attempt to find the source. I spotted Holmes on the other side, Simza in company as they fought the assassin and disrupted many people in the process. Running as fast as I could, dodging the angry people and jumping over fallen objects I soon found myself behind the assassin and used his chance to use a low roundhouse in order to knock him over, jumping over him as I joined the two.

"Shouldn't you have remained with Watson?" he queried, though he was focused on the man who was getting to his feet.

"Shouldn't you not be ruining this night for him?" I countered before following Simza as she ran off and into the next room. I ran through and was grabbed by the shirt as Simza slammed me against the wall, holding a knife against my throat.

"You are a woman?" It was less of a question and more of an exclamation, but I nodded anyway. "Are you with the assassin?"

"I just kicked him in case you didn't notice- I'm with Holmes," I replied, then knocked the blade away from my throat before dragging her with me as I ran to the other side of the room as the assassin was kicked through. She pulled herself away from my grip and ran away again, I looked at the assassin one last time as he used some gymnastic move to leap to his feet- then I decided it was perhaps best to join the gypsy as he held out a sharp knife.

"Get moving!" Holmes joined us in the room, grabbing his knife arm and I heeded his words as I went back to chasing Simza once again.

"We're stuck," commented Simza, not looking too bothered as we entered a room which only led to a window and a drop. "Let's hope Holmes can fight better as good as he can do fortune telling."

"Might be some arguments there," I replied, watching the door as we waited for them to show their faces. The sounds of the fighting could be heard, getting closer, and it was only moments later when Holmes was throw into the room, collapsing to the floor with a knife in his side. The assassin came in with a satisfied grin on his face as he looked at the injured man and them between the two of us, his gaze settling on Simza.

_That wasn't supposed to happen_ was the only thought in my head- that and _oh, crap._


	27. Chapter 27: The Queries

My body tensed as I waited for the assassin to come over- he may have only been here for Simza but I wasn't willing to believe that he would let Holmes and I live after we got in the way. He would just as easily kill us as he would anyone else, and it was now my job to stop him. The tension in the room built; scaring more than any wound and when he did finally move to attack I made the mistake of hesitating- just for a second, but still too long. But Simza wasn't an easy target and she set about fighting him as I helped Holmes to his feet, pulling him out of the way.

"Don't worry about me," he gasped, pulling the knife out of his side and handing it to me. It was obvious what I do, but whether I could do it was another matter entirely and it was also a matter that would be resolved shortly. So without wasting a moment I crossed the short span of the room, and with my knife-wielding hand jabbed with an extended knuckle at the Golgi tendon at the back of his elbow. I then swung my other hand around and struck the elbow once again, breaking it with much more ease.

The assassin cried out in pain, and I dropped down in order to slash the knife across his Achilles tendons. He dropped to the ground, and I stepped backwards as I held out the knife in front of me. The damage to his tendon meant walking would be a problem for him now so he couldn't escape, I felt sick as I realised that I had crippled him- perhaps permanently- and I didn't know how I should proceed with this.

"What was that move you used on his arm?" Holmes walked over to us with some trouble, placing his arm on my shoulder as he leant on me and watched the assassin carefully. "It was something I'm sure Watson would be most intrigued by."

"It was the Golgi organ strike," I replied, still holding out the knife in case he still tried to get Simza. "A strike to the Golgi tendon that is relatively gentle but which triggers a reflex that immediately relaxes the tendon- and when followed by a harder strike can break the elbow joint with much less effort than brute force alone."

"The expertise with which you applied it would suggest you have used it before," commented Holmes.

"Perhaps we should focus more on him," I pointed out, eager not to go out into that territory and trying not to seem suspicious.

The assassin tried to his feet, and was shouting something in another language- no doubt cursing me to the high heavens. Something which didn't leave me feeling very pleased with myself and which made me wish for an escape from this room- my thoughts immediately went to Watson, my eyes to the wound in Holmes's side and I wondered if I should get the good doctor to help him- if he wasn't too busy with his gambling.

"I doubt our friend here will be willing to provide answers," replied Holmes. "And I am in no mood to pursue the answers to questions we already know- loose ends remember."

Of course, Moriarty- I remembered now the beginning of the film with Irene and the letter from Simza's brother.

"So what do we do with him?" I asked.

"We kill him," was Simza's answer. "He was going to kill me, and he's no doubt killed others before- it's more than he deserves."

I was surprised by her answer, as I hadn't expected her to think like that- but I suppose she did have a point, and the right to say it seeing as he was trying to kill her moments ago.

"No," disagreed Holmes. "He can't do any harm now- we'll call Lestrade and have him handed over to the police."

However, the assassin had different ideas and before either of us could react he grabbed the knife from my hands, giving us a ghastly grin before he slit his own throat. Blood spilling everywhere as he collapsed to the ground, dead, and left us all in mute shock.

"That settles the argument then," Holmes finally said.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

After we had solved that issue, Simza left us and Mycroft was called to deal with the problem of what do to about the body- as well as his brother's refusal to go to a hospital. Part of the problem there was that Watson had been drinking a bit too much in our absence, add the fact he was overjoyed at his winnings- Holmes not being available to knock the table over- and he was becoming quite intolerable.

"I'll fill your automobile up for you," offered Mycroft, seemingly quite eager to leave the three of us alone as I berated Holmes into at least binding the wound and Watson stumbled about, grinning in response to earlier stated reasons.

"I'll drive!" offered Watson, tripping over a dust molecule and falling to the floor, giggling like a mad man. "Beep beep."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," replied Holmes whilst I tried not to laugh. "You've had far too much to drink- and I'm sure Miss Morstan would like her fiancé to turn up at the wedding in one piece."

"You're one to talk about good ideas," I pointed out, grimacing as I caught sight of the bandages which were already becoming blood-soaked. "You ignore them on a regular basis."

"No- common sense is what I ignore," he replied, and I was forced to agree there. "If I paid attention to that then I would close my mind to possibilities when it comes to solving my cases."

"Is that why there's a rainforest at home?" I asked in mock surprise, and he wisely chose to ignore the bait.

"I don't want to go to school," Watson commented randomly, and I went over to help the drunken man to his feet. "Do I have to go to school, mother?"

Holmes laughed at this, and I sent him a warning look.

"No you don't- in fact we're taking you on a small trip," I replied, pulling his arm around my shoulder and placing my other hand on his waist so I could support him. "You, me and Holmes."

"I don't want my brother to come- he's such a bully," Watson groaned, pointing an accusatory finger at Holmes. "He keeps killing my dog- make him stay here."

"Maybe so- but we can't leave him here by himself," I replied, and in reply he swung around to hug me tightly.

"Please don't bring him, mummy," he muttered, burying his face in my neck. "He just wants you all for himself."

"Does he now?" I queried, smelling the alcohol on his breath and making a mental note to keep him away from open flames. "And why's that?"

Holmes was obviously enjoying this far too much to give me any help with the doctor, especially as now Watson hugging me like that anybody who happened to pass through couldn't see I was a girl- so to hear him calling me mummy was clearly making them freaked out.

"He's trying to make me jealous," replied the doctor, sniffing. "He keeps taking all of your attention because he doesn't like Mary."

"Well perhaps he's jealous of Mary and you," I suggested, feeling triumphant as Holmes's expression changed to annoyance- obviously not a suggestion he appreciated it seemed, even if Watson was most likely not going to remember any of this.

Watson shook his head, his (awesome) moustache rubbing against my neck- "Mary's not important- he's just making fun of me because I don't get to see you any more and he knows I don't like it."

"Why don't you like it?" I asked, Holmes and I equally confused by this statement, wondering what on earth he could be driving at with this drunken speech.

"I miss you," he replied.

"I miss you too," I told him, ignoring the weird looks given to me by another passing man- he obviously thought something illegal was going on here. "But don't worry about Holmes- I care about you both equally."

"But you love him more!" protested Watson, standing back up straight so I could see the distress in his eyes. "And anyway he doesn't love you like I do!"

A stunned silence followed that statement, even if it was one made by a drunken man who thought I was his mother- it still left an awkward feeling in the room, especially as I tried to figure out what he meant. Did he mean that Holmes didn't love me? He had been saying as much earlier, and it was obviously true- but that was obvious. I was just glad that Mary wasn't here to observe her soon-to-be-husband acting in such a manner, especially seeing as it was obvious the way she would take it. But Watson was only like a brother to me- the only times I'd ever thought of him in what could be considered romantic was when I thought of us as parents dealing with our stubborn child- Holmes obviously. Speaking of which, I wondered what role Mycroft would play in all of this?

Speaking of Mycroft, the man had just returned in time to tell us that our vehicle was ready. Holmes and I both helped Watson as we took him to it, sitting him between us as we prepared for our journey. He continued his drunk rambling for a while, eventually falling asleep on Holmes's shoulder- who in turn moved him so he rested on my shoulder.

"He's going to have the world's worst hangover tomorrow," I commented, as we drove along, ignoring the looks we received from the few people still out. "Mary's going to have us killed for this."

"I'm sure we can make him presentable enough in time," replied Holmes, in a tone that suggested he was still against this whole marriage- and I wondered if new fire had been brought to life in his plan to sabotage it.

"Are you planning on telling him about your cut?" I queried, though cut was far too mild a word to describe it.

"No need to spoil his big day." Holmes seemed to be running over some thoughts in his mind, and I was no doubt distracting him so I stopped questioning him and allowed myself to drift off to sleep, hoping that bigger plot deviations were going to be avoided- he might not make it out alive next time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those of you who like Ironman as well, I have started a side story to this which is a crossover with Ironman and gives twice the RDJ goodness. It's called Breath and I hope you will give time to read and review it ^-^**


	28. Chapter 28: The Wedding

I woke up just before we arrived at the church, feeling a bit stiff from my awkward sleeping position and from having Watson leaning on me throughout the journey. Glancing over at Holmes, I noticed he didn't seem very tired and I would have put it down to him being used to lack of sleep. Of course that would be only if I hadn't seen the film, remembering him to be asleep- the images imprinted firmly I my mind despite the considerable passage of time since I'd seen it. Though whether being in it was better than watching it was debatable; I mean Holmes was willing to try out for a romantic relationship with me, Watson was like a brother to me- a brother getting married to a girl that seems to loathe my very existence, and I was leading a very exciting life style now; whilst on the other hand I seemed to have assumed the role of damsel in distress, Holmes probably didn't care about me as much as he should and this was probably going to end badly, and my sleep was now plagued with nightmares about the dark horizon in Holmes's life.

"Are we there yet?" I asked, receiving no reply from the detective. "How's your cut?"

"It's fine," he replied stiffly, almost as stiffly as he was sitting and I rolled my eyes at his macho display- men, honestly.

"Don't drop dead on me- I need you to drive me back," I said in way of sympathy, and received a small chuckle for my troubles.

"Noted." The church was coming into view now, and I could almost hear the bagpipes playing in an attempt to wake Watson from his sleep- or unconsciousness. The two men were hanging around outside, and they looked at us with some confusion as we pulled up- I mean I was dressed up in man clothes with the groom lying asleep on my shoulder and Holmes looking like he'd been in the wars. It didn't help that when we'd come to halt, Holmes stumbled as he got out of the vehicle and was holding his side as he came over to our side. I looked at him with accusation as I shook Watson.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." He only ended up shifting slightly, and so Holmes reached across to pull the jacket that he'd been using as a blanket off him- no luck there. "Holmes killed Gladstone again."

He half-opened his eyes, looking at me drowsily before closing them again and I looked at Holmes to see him looking back at me accusingly.

"What?" I asked; an innocent look on my face. "That was far less risqué than telling him you'd killed Mary."

"He killed Mary?" Watson shot up, and we looked at him in surprise.

"No," I replied, then an idea came to me. "Mary killed Holmes."

"Oh," he fell back against the seat. "Okay then."

There was a small pause, then we heard him snoring slightly and shared a look. Holmes raised an eyebrow and mine was shock mixed with amusement.

"I don't think he likes you very much," I commented, giggling as he offered his hand to me to help me out of the vehicle.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked sarcastically, then went over to the musicians and signalled to them to start playing. The awful (In my opinion anyway) sound of bagpipes had me putting my fingers in my ears much to Holmes amusement and Watson was finally properly roused, the detective taking his hand as he helped him out of the vehicle; a glass bottle falling to the ground. He tried to make the doctor more presentable, dusting him down and preceding to accidently rip the sleeve off his jacket.

With that we headed into the church in order to get ourselves ready- which meant for me that I'd have to wear a dress again. Sure enough, when I entered my own changing space I was handed a dress by Holmes and gave me a quick smile before going to sort himself out. He pulled the door close behind him and I stared at it for a few more seconds before looking at the dress- it wasn't one I'd seen before; an elegant yet modest silken gown in a shade of the deepest blue. Perhaps not as comfy as the clothes I'd borrowed off Holmes, but it would suit me very well- like the others did- and I began to wonder who it was that was choosing these for me. I changed as fast as I could, and was just about finished when there was a knock at the door and Holmes stepped in- one of the rare times when he looked presentable.

"Are you going to tell me how your cut is really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I assure you it is quite fine," he replied, and I reached out and placed my hand over the wounded area. He tried but failed to hide the flinch and I rolled my eyes at his macho-ness. "Did you need to do that?"

"Well if you'd have just told the truth I wouldn't have to," I pointed out.

"You look… nice," he said, looking uncomfortable with the complimenting, and immediately changed the subject. "I will most likely be leaving after the wedding to see our good friend Professor Moriarty, and I was wondering if you really do want to accompany me or if you would prefer to remain for the celebrations- I'm sure that would be of more interest to you than meeting him or remaining in the vehicle."

I rolled my eyes as I tiptoed up and kissed him on the nose, ignoring his confused look.

"Normally when a man says something like that they'd be trying to protect me, but with you I've no idea whether you actually mean it or not," I commented, brushing imaginary dirt off my dress. "But I'll just save you the trouble of telling me which one and say I'm coming anyway."

"Are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah- and you're not going to change my mind."

"Is that so?" A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "And why's that?"

"Try it and find out," I teased, poking him in the chest. "You can't make me stay here."

"Even if I told you that coming with me could very well cause you to suffer greatly?"

We stared at each other, pictures of Reichenbach Falls flashing through my mind and a sudden desperation burning through me. I must have shown it because Holmes sighed and turned away from me.

"I'll understand if you wish to return back to Baker Street," he continued. "I'm sure you do not wish to join me in the path of fire- Watson as taught you some sense at least."

My face furrowed in confusion before I realised what was wrong- he was still upset about Watson getting married, and perhaps he was even considering that I might leave now that he knew I could succumb to love. But of course he couldn't say it- it wasn't his style and he knew, or at least thought, that these were useless emotions just getting in the way.

"I'm still coming," I said, and he turned back to me with a blank look on his face. "Like it is said; bravery doesn't come from having no fear, but rather from overcoming fear- though I doubt you care as long as you get to solve your cases."

"You know me too well," he commented with a dry chuckle, but his eyes sparkled with a genuine happiness. "Are you sure you want to come?"

"Definitely," I replied, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer- then added sarcastically; "I'm sure Mary will miss me greatly once we've left."

"Not as much as she'll miss me," he pointed out, chuckling, then his look became serious and he watched me with some hesitation before leaning in and kissed me on the lips lightly.

"I concur," I agreed, and ran my hand through his hair before kissing him again. "Now shall we go take our seats so we can get through this as soon as possible?"

He unwrapped his arms from around my waist and took my hand as we left the room to go join the rest of the guests in the main part of the church, ignoring the looks everyone gave us as we walked up the isle and took the seats at the front- on the right. Holmes began nodding off almost immediately, and it wasn't long before he had fallen asleep.

I chose this time to reflect on things, trying not to let my attentions pass to the fact Holmes was still holding my hand and was leaning against me. I was more concerned that soon Watson would be going on his honeymoon and Moriarty would be sending his gift. I know I shouldn't have, but I was wondering if the changes would get worse and worse until it led to an alternate ending that would bring no happiness to anyone.

The wedding began soon enough, and things played out normally with me having to wake up Holmes, Mary smiling at me smugly and Watson looking embarrassed- no doubt he remembered his behaviour from last night. The priest read out the sermons, and I nearly fell asleep from it all- so much so that it felt like I was watching all from a distance. When it ended we- Holmes and I- left the church with the other guests and walked out of the grounds, stopping only one last time to see the newly wedded couple come out of the church- Watson looking happier than I'd ever seen him before.

"Shall we go on now?" asked Holmes, turning away from the scene and walking over to the vehicle where Moran was waiting for him- I waited for a few more moments so they could have their exchange before joining Holmes in the vehicle and giving a mock salute to the somewhat surprised man as the vehicle started and we drove off- ready to meet Moriarty once again.


	29. Chapter 29: The Ruined Honeymoon

In the end, Holmes decided that it would be better for me to remain in the vehicle, claiming that I would only prove to be a distraction; I felt that it was more to do with the fact he didn't want Moriarty to see us together, even though he probably already knew with his web of spies and agent throughout London. He had come from the meeting deep in thought, perhaps even a little anxious and time passed quickly until we came to the moments before the trains departure- I knew that because Holmes and I were scheduled to leave on said train. We were also going to be late for said train if Holmes didn't hurry up, and so I took it upon myself to burst into his bedroom- or bombsite if you prefer- and tell him to hurry the hell up.

"Holmes! You can't expect to save John and Mary if you don't hurry up!"

Holmes looked at me with annoyance, attempting to put some lipstick on and there was a moment's pause before I raised my eyebrows in amusement and tried not to laugh at him. I myself had changed ages ago my cargo trousers and one of Holmes's shirts, pulling a black and green dress over them for safety.

"Why do you need to wear a dress?" I asked, forgetting about the impending doom at the sight of Holmes trying to apply make-up. "And I thought you were supposed to be a master of disguise."

"There is no time to waste with your nonsense- we're going to be late!" retorted the detective and I rolled my eyes in reply. "Did you get the cab?"

"No duh, genius," I replied, leaning against the doorframe as he finished off with his make-up. "For further notice- I don't know you."

"No need to be shy." The detective quickly came over to the door, coming out of his room and on a sudden impulse kissed me quickly- the thick lipstick on his lips transferring to mine and leaving me disgusted. "Now let's get going- the game is afoot!"

"So is the drag queen," I said, after he had left the room and then quickly made after him.

The cabbie looked like he was about to drive off and leave us, then upon seeing us sent us an expression meant to say 'about time'- then perhaps caught a glance of Holmes and began to wonder what on earth was going on. We climbed in, giving the name of the station and were off at a fast pace, hoping the train wouldn't leave without us.

"I have already contacted my brother, so everything should be in place," Holmes said, though whether he was actually talking to me or not I didn't know. Instead I just sat there, twiddling my thumbs and trying to ignore the fact that the person next to me was dressed like a woman- an ugly woman might I add. "Let us hope we are not too late."

"If we are it's your fault," I replied, and he looked at me in annoyance. "That dress does not suit you at all."

"Thank you for your opinion," he commented dryly. "I already knew that."

He seemed to be in a bad mood, and my criticism had not sat well with him. Obviously he was worried about Watson- I was too even though I knew he would be alright and (somewhat to my annoyance) Mary as well.

We arrived at the station in time, the train preparing for its journey and the few passengers left getting on board. Climbing on ourselves, Holmes was prevented from going into the bathroom and I peered out of the corner of my eye to see Watson looking into the corridor. He didn't seem to recognise us, so we were good for the moment and we retreated into our compartment without any hassle.

"Please tell me you're going to change," I said when he had closed the door behind him. "You're beginning to look strangely attractive in that dress."

"I could say the same to you," he retorted and I raised an eyebrow as he sat down next to me. "What I mean is that I'm far more used to seeing you in my clothes."

I rolled my eyes; "You're definitely no expect on compliments."

"I don't care much for them," he replied.

"But what if someone was complimenting you about your great detective skills?" I retorted and he smirked slightly. "You'd definitely like a boost to your giant ego."

"You've been talking to Watson."

"Of course I have," I replied, kneeling on the seat so I could look down on the detective. "But I've known you long enough."

"Then you'll know that I do not have a big ego- I merely state the facts." He looked up at me and I used this opportunity to kiss him on the lips. "Let us not get distracted now."

"Distracted? Who's distracted?" I commented. "It's kind of hard to get distracted at this moment in time." I sat back down and peered out the window to see the sun beginning to set- I was fairly certain that it had been dark when the oncoming events happened. In a short amount of time we would be battling Moriarty's henchman, avoiding gun fire and clinging to the outside of the train- fun.

"You seem nervous," pointed out Holmes and I gave him a sarcastic 'Really?' look. "You needn't worry- even if we do happen to be late, I'm sure Watson could take care of both himself and his wife."

He said the last word with distaste, and I rolled my eyes as I rested my legs on the opposite seat.

"It's not Watson I'm worried about," I replied quietly, and he looked at me questioningly. "He at least has common sense."

Time passed by slowly, until eventually it was time for us to make a move and Holmes went about placing the grenades. When he came back he had just walked into the cabin when shooting was heard and we knew what to do. Holmes walked out of the cabin, turning away from Watson and getting ready to beat up the passing guard. I slipped past him and crept down the corridor until I was next to Watson who promptly swung around and placed the gun at my throat- before realising it was me.

"Enjoying your honeymoon?" I asked, and he looked at me in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, annoyed but also relieved given the current circumstances. "And where's Holmes?"

"I think the more important question is what is he wearing," I replied, and I stepped back as Holmes joined us.

"I agree it's not my best disguise," stated the detective, in return to Watson's face- which mirrored the question I had just asked. We then joined Watson in his cabin just as some new guards joined in the fray.

"What's going on?" asked Watson, shooting at the new arrivals.

"A wedding gift from Moriarty," replied Holmes as he sat down next to Mary- who didn't look very happy. I sat down opposite them, heart racing in my chest and senses on full alert as gunshot after gunshot rang out, shiver running down my spine as I stared out of the open door as Holmes complained about how uncomfortable dresses are. "Do you trust me?"

"No," replied Mary, and I looked at Watson for a second as Holmes went along with his plan.

"Well we're going to have to do something about that," he replied and he pushed Mary out of the train. I got up and peered out of the door to see the splash where she had landed in the river.

"I hope you don't do that to me," I commented and sat back in my seat, as Watson yelled something to the enemies in his… well, excitement I guess.

"Watson, do please shut the door." Watson did as asked by the detective and upon turning around began to piece together what had happened behind his back. "I timed it perfectly-"

Watson ran over to the door and peered out of the door before turning back to the now nervous detective with murder in his eyes.

"Did you just kill my wife?"

"Now, I said I timed it perfectly-" Holmes was interrupted once again as Watson set about hurting him, seemingly trying to strangle him, falling down onto the seat and getting into some very suggestive positions.

"What will the neighbours say," I said to myself, seeing as they were squabbling like a pair of children. I chose to ignore their immaturity and set about removing my dress so I could get into more suitable clothes for hanging off a train. They were in their weirdest position when I had finished and the door slid open to reveal the guards, one of whom had a gun aimed at the two men. He pulled the trigger and there was an explosion which knocked the guards off their feet – killing two birds with one stone because it also stopped the two.

"Shouldn't we get a move on?" I queried, Holmes shutting the door and putting his grenade in place as Watson seemed to be confused about my change of clothes- he really must have been seeing red.

"Now we can," he replied, then ripped off the dress- I had tried that and failed- reaching out through the open door and grabbing the railing before exiting completely. "Come quickly now."

Watson gave me a reassuring smile before I followed the detective out onto the side of the train and immediately almost got blown off by the force of the wind, gripping onto the side of the train as I brought my feet out- just about able to move along and trying to move along fast enough as Watson followed and the guards burst into the cabin, another explosion almost burning Watson as we continued along.

"I'm on my honeymoon!" Shouted Watson over the roar of the wind, unable to kick the detective because I was in-between them.

Not soon enough, Holmes found the cabin he was looking for and went in, shocking the two passengers greatly and, upon Watson and I joining him, lied down on the floor with a request that we lie down with him- which of course led to me having to lie down on top of the detective as he pulled out his pipe.

"What are we doing?" asked Watson, as I reminded my mind that having to lie on top of a topless Holmes was not as important as not getting shot or a giant splinter.

"We are waiting, I am smoking," replied the detective, lighting his pipe and at that moment machine gun- or something like that- fire rang out and we all ducked our heads out of the way, Holmes using his free arm to wrap around my head in a form of protection. "Waiting patiently."

"For what?" shouted Watson, struggling to be heard over the loud bangs from the gun.

"The window of opportunity," replied Holmes, and I could just about see him hand Watson the gun. "Make it count!" The gunfire continued for a few more seconds, and when it stopped Watson sat up and quickly fired off his shot, ducking back down as the gunfire began again. "I said make it count! How many opportunities did you think you had?"

But luckily Holmes had his Plan B, and moments later a large explosion rocked through the train which signified the end of the honeymoon fiasco.


	30. Chapter 30: The Journey

When the train did finally arrive at Brighton- and everyone realised parts of it were missing- we set off to catch some trains in order to get us to France, though this time without the wannabe assassins, explosions and Mary. We soon arrived at Dover, taking a ferry across the channel and preparing to find Madam Simza Heron. We took seats at the back of the boat, overlooking the slowly fading sight of England and trying not to let earlier events dampen our spirits. Watson searched through the single bag we had with us, finding the bloody handkerchief with Irene's initials on and looking at Holmes questioningly. He in reply took it from him, walking over to the railing and looking at it one last time before releasing it. Call me evil, but I was glad Irene was out of the picture- though knowing film directors I wouldn't be surprised if she came back or at least turned out to be alive. Watson noticed my uncomfortable shifting and reached across to gently take my hand.

"Don't worry," He said to me quietly, so Holmes wouldn't hear. "He really does care about you- even if he does loathe admitting it."

"I know," I replied, resting my head against his shoulder and watched Holmes back as he continued to stand at the railing. "Although sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

"You know how he is on a case," he pointed out. "He'll focus all his attention on that and everything else becomes just background noise- plus I'm sure it's preferable to having him turn the rooms into a jungle."

We sat there for a few more minutes, then Watson excused himself and retreated indoors, giving me a meaningful look as he did so- he obviously wanted Holmes and I to have some time alone. Not quite so possible with the other passengers around, but it was starting to get cold and they were retreating indoors as well. Holmes still hadn't moved, so somewhat reluctantly I got up and joined him, shivering as the wind blew against me. I was surprised as Holmes moved to stand behind me and leant against my back as he placed his hands over mine.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked him, unable to see his face even as he leaned over my shoulder. "You're being weird."

"I thought I was always weird according to you?" responded the man, his voice sounding a little off. "Besides- don't couples normally do things like this?"

"I guess." I could feel the contrast between his warm body and the cold sea air, resisting the urge to snuggle into his warmth I occupied my thoughts with whatever random subjects popped into my head. "But we're not exactly a 'normal couple' so to speak."

"That is agreed." He turned his head so his lips brushed against my ears. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing, is it?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On the couple." I felt him move away, coming to stand next to instead in his previous place and position. "Holmes?"

"We are letting ourselves get distracted," he replied stoically, and I rolled my eyes before going to join Watson indoors.

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As soon as we landed in France we headed to the gypsy camp where we were to find Madam Simza, Holmes conversing easily with the locals whilst Watson and tried to figure out what they were saying. I had learned French myself, but I had forgotten most of it and only a few words and phrases remained in my head. So it pretty much meant I only had half an idea what was going on- if that- and I sometimes relayed it to Watson.

"What did he say?" asked Watson, watching as Holmes and the cab driver shared a laugh- Holmes looking at us with amusement as he did so. "It didn't sound nice."

"So much for French being the language of love," I agreed, then shrugged my shoulders. "I have no idea there- something about the English I believe though."

"Come along you two- there's no time to waste," called Holmes, climbing into the carriage and we exchanged a look before joining him. Like the town we had arrived in, the carriage was much fancier and luxurious that in England- which didn't do much to help the men's patriotism, who insisted that London was far better than this place even though it smelled a lot better. "The smell doesn't mean anything," Holmes had responded.

"It does to me," I replied as we started along. "Where are we going anyway?"

"We are going to stay overnight at a local inn, then the next day we will hire ourselves a carriage and go to meet Madam Heron," replied Holmes.

"Why can't we go today?" asked Watson, and he responded with a secretive smug grin.

The rest of the journey was done in silence, I spent most of that quiet time staring out of the window and just watching the scenery go by- from the small, terraced houses of the town to the tall trees of the forests. Evidently the place we were going to be staying at was one a little out of the way of society and I had no doubt Holmes was sure Moriarty or his men might be nearby. That brought no comfort to me, having no desire to smell chloroform again and no intention of dying anytime soon.

After half an hour or so we arrived at a small inn- the sort of small, cosy type place with a friendly atmosphere and ivy-coated walls that might appear in a romance film- or a horror one seeing as it was in the middle of nowhere, and despite it getting dark now there were still plenty of people seated at the tables in the courtyard. Many of them appeared to be couples on their honeymoon and had the nauseating couple aura about them- how the hell Holmes knew this place let alone stand it was beyond my knowledge. For someone who claimed to hate love he seemed to dabble in it, but then again 'Know thy enemy' and stuff.

"This would have been a nice honeymoon destination for you and Mary," Holmes informed Watson, getting out of the carriage before he could retaliate in anyway.

"I swear he does this on purpose," commented Watson as we followed him out, the sounds of crickets chirping and women giggling reaching our ear. "I'm glad it's only for one night."

"Then we march on with the defeating of Moriarty- so much more relaxing than a stay at an inn," I replied, heading into the building just as Holmes finished securing rooms for us- and the scary thing was I kind of meant it. These adventures were the highlight of my day- except the ones where high amounts of pain were involved- although that could because I had nothing to do most days seeing as Victorian novels didn't interest me as much as ones from my proper time. The only things I enjoyed reading were Watson's accounts of their past cases and even those didn't last for long.

"Aren't we fortunate- there were only two rooms left," the detective informed us with a slight smile on his face. "Even if they are meant for couple on their honeymoon- they should be quite comfortable."

"Holmes, I swear if you are doing this on purpose-" began Watson, gritting his teeth.

"Doing what on purpose?" replied Holmes innocently, and handed Watson a key. "You will be by yourself I'm afraid, what with Mrs Watson being unavailable."

"You threw her off a train," pointed out Watson, as my brain got over the fact I would be sharing a room with Holmes- a honeymoon… suite, if they can be called that at this time. This meant dragging my mind out of the gutter- but you can't blame me the name says it all.

"I told you I timed it perfectly," the other retorted, huffing and crossing his arms. "She would have only have got in the way."

"Holmes-"

"Calm down children," I interrupted, already fed up of their arguments and they both looked at me in annoyance. "Watson- just think of it as she's been removed from the path of danger, and Holmes- don't go throwing people off trains unless it's a 'you or them' situation. I'm pretty sure that you and Watson are just friends, aren't you?"

They were both embarrassed and offended by my suggestion, so I mentally tuned out as they spluttered out protests and settled for studying my nails.

"Are you even listening?" Watson asked, breaking my short reverie and I shook my head.

"I just call it as I see it," I replied.

"Then your observations are incorrect," Holmes remarked stoically. "And such actions are illegal anyway."

"Not where I come from," I retorted, staring him down as he glared at me.

"Can we just get to our rooms?" Interrupted Watson. "As much fun as it is to stand around arguing I haven't had much sleep."

"Seconded," I agreed, stifling a yawn, and we headed to our rooms, Holmes leading the way with the air of a man who's had his manly pride wounded- poor him- and when we did find them he still refused to speak to me. Obviously what I had said had struck a nerve with him, and even though I shouldn't have been I was mentally congratulating myself for finding his weak spot.

"You can't ignore me forever, Holmes," I pointed out when we had gone to bed, said man trying to keep as faraway from as possible without falling off the bed- it was a miracle he was in it at all, I hadn't been expecting him to sleep.

"Then apologise," I heard him say, and rolled onto my side to face his back. "You know full well that I harbour no such feelings for Watson."

"You harbour no such feelings for anyone," I pointed out. "We all know this romance is an experiment for you."

"And yet you allow it to progress."

"Well perhaps the lie is preferable to wasting my time wishing you could truly feel something akin to my feelings for you," I replied, then realised that it sounded so stupid that I actually facepalmed. "What I mean is maybe you'll realise that emotions aren't all that bad."

He snorted in disbelief, and no other words were heard from him as we slowly drifted off to sleep- or at least I did.


	31. Chapter 31: The Goulash

The next morning we did indeed hire a carriage- a dog cart- and set off on our journey to find the gypsies. Holmes was still giving me the silent treatment, though Watson had seemingly forgiven me and we were getting along just fine. The only problem was the cart was made for two people- us not being able to find one made for more and so I now had to sit on Holmes lap whilst he continued to ignore me.

"Is this safe?" I asked, eyeing the wheels as they wobbled and hoping to god that these were made for fat people as well.

"Yes they are," Watson replied. "You don't need to worry."

"Are you going to ignore me for much longer?" I asked, turning my attention to the stoic detective. "I can't believe you are still mad with me."

"He's just sulking," Watson told me, and I poked Holmes in the cheek to test it out. "Have you tried apologising to him?"

"Several times over," I reported. Holmes remained silent, but I saw a look of annoyance cross his face and knew he was thinking about the fact I didn't actually apologise until the morning- but how the hell was I supposed to know that he would take it so seriously. "We even managed a lovely little chat last night- I'm just wondering if it was something I said."

"It is something you're both saying," Holmes interrupted. "How am I supposed to be able think when you two are rabbiting on?"

"Alright- we get it," I said, holding my hands up in the 'whoa nelly' position. "You could put it a little nicer you know."

"There is no need," he replied in a huff. "Such pleasantries are irrelevant."

"No wonder you're so popular," I commented sarcastically.

When we came to the gypsy camp, we were immediately surrounded and I was glad I didn't have anything they could steal- even with the many pockets on y combat trousers. Many of the people seemed surprised to see me with them, probably because they seemed like proper gentlemen whilst I was more of a delinquent- but they didn't seem overall bothered by me dress-less-ness and I immediately became fond, even when they did take the bag from Watson.

"What are you doing 'ere?" asked one of the men, walking up to us as the others looked on at us.

Holmes looked around, pretending not to notice and Watson answered when it became apparent he wouldn't.

"We're looking for Madam Simza," he said, and in response one of them held up a goose.

"'Ere's Madam Simza," he said, and they all burst out laughing- even Holmes and I smiled at that whilst Watson was less amused. He became even less amused when the man who had first spoken took his Mary- knitted scarf.

"What a lovely scarf," he commented, and Watson responded by punching him in the face.

"So mature," I said to Holmes, who wasn't the least bit sorry to see the scarf go.

It seemed like a fight might break out, at least until the real Madam Simza showed up and put an end to it.

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"This is one of the best hedgehog goulashes I've ever tasted," complimented Holmes. "I can't remember tasting it anywhere else."

Madam Simza had invited us back to her tent when Holmes had told her the object of our mission in France, giving us a dinner of hedgehog goulash. I knew what a hedgehog was, but I had no idea what goulash was and quite frankly it sounded like something you'd expect to find hanging from your nose or in the toilet. So whilst Holmes chowed don happily, even Watson giving it a taste I was more concerned about whether it would kill me or not and honestly I didn't know.

"Tell me, when was the last time you had hedgehog goulash?" asked the doctor, staring at the eccentric man.

"Well I just told you Watson," replied Holmes. "I can't remember."

I actually ate a mouthful of the stuff- it appeared to be some sort of stew and it wasn't all that bad, well except for the hedgehog part of it.

"Well, maybe you've repressed it," suggested Watson.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong," countered Holmes. "You see, unlike you, I repress nothing."

"Ah yes, because that's perfectly normal."

"How dare you be rude to this woman who has invited us into her tent and offered us her hedgehog," Holmes scolded, and I rolled my eyes at that- because he was never rude to anyone at all, was he?

"Says the man who throws women off trains," countered Watson, and I coughed to cover my laugh.

Holmes went on to ask about her brother, talking about the anarchists and paper which came from a cellar near/under a wine establishment. I would have been paying attention where I not trying to eat the hedgehog goulash without throwing up- knowing what was coming up I needed all the strength I could get. All though I wasn't sure a hedgehog had much strength, not counting the spines on its back- one of which I swear I had just eaten.

"Have a drink," said Simza, offering the bottle to Watson.

"Don't drink- you know what happens when you drink," Holmes warned him, taking the bottle and drinking himself.

"Come and dance," offered Simza, again prompting words of warning from Holmes.

"Don't dance- you know what happens when you dance."

But of course these words were promptly ignored and we were soon outside, Holmes and I seated next to one another as Watson did some outrageous dancing with the gypsies. I laughed, clapping along to the beat as Holmes- who had apparently had a bit too much to drink- started to do his own dancing, if it could be called that. I raised an eyebrow, snorting at whatever it was he was doing and he looked at me with a cunning gleam in his eye.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing you'd better stop," I warned him, but he only grinned in reply- like a child caught in the act before standing up and pulling me up as we joined in the dancing as well. Although to be honest be both sucked at it and were making it up as we went along. Holmes held my hands as he swung me in a circle and then pulled me in, hands gripping me tightly on my waist as my arms went around his neck. We were now slow dancing, Holmes obviously having drunk too much because he pressed his face into my hair and started humming.

Watson spotted us and raised an eyebrow, to which I responded to with a look that said 'remember your stag night?' and he blushed lightly as he went back to his dancing. Holmes moved his arms so they were wrapped around my waist and pulled back enough to whisper in my ear.

"You smell gorgeous," he whispered, and even though he was drunk I still blushed at the compliment. "You smell… like lavender- I thought you'd smell like something more exotic and strong."

"Nope- the tough woman likes the calming smell of lavender," I replied, using this opportunity to run my hand through Holmes's hair. "You smell like I suspected- tobacco and some sort of spice, and stop trying to eat my ear."

When I was speaking Holmes had kissed my ear, then licked it and then bit it. He made a disapproving noise and continued his work, making me hope to god that no-one could see what he was doing and that I was blushing at it. I gently pushed his head away from me, looking into his eyes as he looked back at me in confusion.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked.

"Because you're drunk," I replied, and he shook his head in disagreement. "Yes you are- you're not behaving like yourself."

"How would you know?" he countered and I rolled my eyes.

"Holmes, how long have I been living with you?" I asked him.

"That's not the point," he disagreed, shaking his head again and so I made a decision to take him into the tent that we'd been loaned and put him to bed. He protested of course and it took plenty of effort to get him moving and even more effort to make him stay in bed.

"Holmes, you're going to wake up with a big hangover you know," I told him as he asked for more drink. "How can you expect to stop Moriarty if you've killed off all your brain cells?"

"What if I don't want to stop Moriarty?" he countered huffily, making it a hundred per cent positive he was drunk. "What if I want to have fun?"

"Well you can do that after you've stopped the collapse of Western civilisation," I replied, in what could class as the most bizarre parent-child argument ever. "Just try and get some sleep."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll hit you over the head with a shovel." I stroked his cheek gently, his hand grabbing mine. "Trust me when I say you need this."

"I need to be hit over the head with a shovel?" he asked in confusion, and I chuckled. "What?"

"No- you need to sleep," I corrected.

"Why?"

I swallowed nervously as I thought about the bomb at the hotel, then the trip to Germany which would follow and the torture which would come about the clueless man. Should I tell him about it so he could stop it from happening? So we wouldn't have to go through the motions of almost losing the world's greatest detective- the man I… loved? I knew I wouldn't be able to bear living through that scene on that train and the words pushed themselves to the front of my mind and screaming to be spoken.

"Why?" repeated Holmes, frowning at me.

"Because you'll be an insufferable ass tomorrow if you don't," I replied, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. "Goodnight Holmes."

Despite his protests he quickly fell asleep, and I lay down next to him as I looked at his peaceful face. I looked down at his peaceful face as he remained blissfully unaware of the future, and I cried.


	32. Chapter 32: The Explosion

When we woke up the next morning, Holmes had a hangover- as expected- and woke up complaining much to my annoyance. I lifted my head off his shoulder, aware that he had suddenly stopped talking and opening my eyes to see that he was looking at me intently.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You've been crying," he commented and I automatically raised a hand to my eyes, wincing at the sore skin. "Did I say something to offend you last night?"

"Nice to see that you care- but no," I replied, hoping that my eyes would return to normal soon- I didn't need anyone else bugging me about why I was crying and my brain wasn't completely awake yet so coming up with a suitable lie wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Holmes sat up as well, his dark eyes looking into mine as he tried to deduce what was wrong and I resisted the urge to look away from his piercing gaze. He began to frown, gaze now checking out the rest of my body for clues and he apparently came up with nothing- or so I thought.

"Something's going to happen," he said, and I made no move to agree or disagree with him. "It appears as though you are still the biggest case I have to solve."

"Lucky me," I replied dryly. He frowned even more and I wondered if I had somehow offended him again.

"Did I bite your ear?"

I blushed, giving him the answer to him without even needing to speak. He coughed to cover his own embarrassment, reaching up to brush the hair behind my ear and lightly touching the bruised lobe. It seemed to appeal to his scientific mind, and I just hoped it wasn't as bad as I was imagining it.

"Did I hurt you, or did you enjoy it?" He asked, eyes glittering in amusement and I made no move to answer. "It is important for my experiment."

"Then why don't you try it out?" I asked, leaning forward and kissing his ear. When he didn't protest I licked it, dragging my tongue around his whole ear and then nibbling around it. I listened with satisfaction as his breathing became ragged, biting down on his ear hard and then sucking the lobe. But he pushed me away, staring at me with dilated pupils before leaning in and capturing my lips. He kissed me hungrily, in a way he'd never kissed me before and I responded eagerly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he wound one had through my hair and sneaked the other one under my top onto the bare skin of my lower back.

"Could you not do that while I'm around?"

We broke apart, both out of breath, and turned to see Watson propped up on one arm- also seemingly with a hangover. Holmes didn't appear to be embarrassed by his catching of us in so intimate a moment and instead appeared to blame Watson for 'spying' on us as he put it.

"Really Watson- I thought you knew better than that," scolded the detective, whilst Watson was annoyed by his friend's accusations. "I'm sure you wouldn't want either of us spying on your time with Mrs Watson."

"I was already in here!" he protested.

"And yet you didn't have the decency in you to alert us."

"I only just woke up!"

"And yet you are quite clearly lying- it is obvious to even the most slow of amateurs."

I chose to ignore them, hoping they couldn't continue for long with the headaches that came with the hangovers and instead leaving them too it. But their stubbornness prevailed and they continued the argument as each tried to have the last word. It was beginning to get really annoying so I decided to remind them that we had an important thing to do and I started it by shouting for them to shut up- noting that they both flinched when I did so.

"Can you two for once stop squabbling like a couple of children and try to act your age for once? You do remember that we've got to go and find Simza's brother today, and how can we do that when you're both trying to have the last word? Moriarty will probably have completed his plan by the time you finish and I'm pretty sure that no one wants that to happen. So could both of you just grow up, drop your petty arguments and remember that we have work to do."

They didn't look happy about my scolding them, but they shut up and set about getting ready for our trip to see Simza's brother- or rather that Claude guy and the whole 'he killed himself so we have to escape to go stop the bomb' thing. The bomb thing where Holmes was going to make a mistake that cost several people their lives, and the desire to tell Holmes where it actually was overcame me. There were so many things I wanted to tell Holmes; the bomb was in the hotel, Moriarty was going to torture him, he would have a close brush with death on the train, Rene had cosmetic surgery to change the way he looked and those three little words which meant so much to me and so little to Holmes. Perhaps if I told him all that he could save those men, he could avoid the trap and be n good enough health when it came to the final fight between him and Moriarty that he could beat him without sending both of them over the edge.

We were soon ready to go, the gypsies lending us a carriage made for four people with Watson driving once again, Holmes sitting next to him and Simza and I in the back. We wasted no more time, keeping a fast pace on our travels and barely speaking as we concentrated on our destination. Holmes no doubt hoping that Rene would be there so he could find out more about Moriarty's master plan and I wondering if the awful feeling of tension and nervousness would subside soon, hoping that it couldn't get any worse- unlike events to come.

It was dark by the time we reached the city, but plenty of people were still bustling around and I peered out into the night as we passed the hotel where the bomb would be headed soon. It loomed above us ominously, seeming to threaten me into remaining silent with the truth and leaving its image burned into my mind as we soon pulled up outside the anarchist headquarters. People were still coming and going, and as we entered the building I saw the bomb making its way pass. Holmes glanced at me curiously, no doubt noting the look on my face but otherwise occupied as we headed down into the cellar.

It was just like it was in the film, with the man seated at his table with his back to us and the only difference being the scent of wine that filled the air and the cold chill that went down my spine.

"Claude?" questioned Simza, as she recognised the seated man. "Where is my brother?"

"He's not here," replied the man, a sixth sense alerting us to the fact that all was not well. "He hasn't been here for ages."

"That's not true," disagreed Simza, holding out the pieces of paper. "He wrote to me from here."

Holmes seated himself opposite the man, who looked like a man defeated and studied him carefully as Simza continued her own line of investigation. I already knew what was going to happen, so I focused on trying to remember which of the hooks was the one that opened the door- the sooner we could get out of this place the sooner we could go and save those people.

"There's no need for any of that." I jumped slightly as I thought the man was talking to me, but then realised that he was responding to the offer of help that Holmes had given him. "You see, we have an arrangement, he and I. The only way to protect my family… no loose ends. You have less than ten minutes."

He held the gun up to his head and we all responded immediately.

"Don't!" shouted Holmes, but it was too late and the man fired the pistol, the sound of responding voices heard upstairs. Watson ran over to the stairs, firing a few shots to deter any of the braver men upstairs.

"We're trapped," Simza said, looking around the room. "That is the only way out."

"No it's not," I replied, watching Holmes as he went about figuring it out and hoping he could do it quicker than I could because I still couldn't remember. He walked over to the wall, examining the hooks before reaching out to one and watching in satisfaction as a door opened up.

"Come along, Watson," he said, going through the doorway with me and Simza after him, Watson bringing up the rear. "You know what to do."

Watson cut the sandbag with the sword from his cane and the door swung shut behind him. Holmes lit a match as we walked through the tunnel, pulling it back from a box of explosives and spotting the unfinished prop from _Don Giovanni_ , coming to the conclusion that the bomb was in the opera house. We hurried through the tunnels, my mind still battling with the whole 'should I tell him issue?' when we found the grate that led outside and Holmes began to head towards the opera. I decided at that moment that I couldn't let that happen and quickly pulled at the detectives arm.

"It's not there," I told him, and he stopped as he stared at me in confusion. "It's in that hotel opposite the opera house."

Simza was looking at me with suspicion, not knowing the truth like the men did and even they were unsure as to whether they should trust me or not- after all Holmes was the expert.

"Are you sure?" asked the detective, and as I nodded in affirmative I tried to look confident about my reply. Holmes seemed to mull it over quickly before making up his mind and taking me by the hand as we hurried onwards. People moved to get out of our way, looking at us in shock and curiosity as they wondered what on earth was going on. I felt happiness surge through me as it became clear we were heading for the hotel and I picked up my speed as we did so- it was going to be a close call. Holmes seemed to have some idea as to who the targets were because as we ran into the building we headed straight upstairs, ignoring the cries of the staff as they tried to stop us and we turned the corner onto the floor and headed along the corridor.

Just as the bomb went off.

A blast of fire knocked the doors of its hinges and the shockwave knocked Holmes and I off our feet, the building shaking around us and people screaming in terror. I was aware of something solid catching me in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me and struggled to get it back as the air became hot for a few seconds before cooling down again. Silence fell inside the building, and as Watson hurried over and helped me up I was aware of stabbing pain in my stomach, but that wasn't important as I realised we had failed- the bomb had still gone off and nothing had changed.


	33. Chapter 33: The Ride

Watson, Simza and I were seated around a table outside a café as we waited for Holmes to arrive back from his information gathering and tell us where we were off to next. My stomach was still killing me, but I had attempted to clean it and bandage it myself after we booked into a hotel. I hadn't told anyone that I was hurt, but even so Watson appeared concerned and Holmes seemingly knew the truth, but wasn't going to tell the good doctor and even seemed to appreciate my silence. No doubt because it meant that we could continue on with the case without any distractions. More importantly, I had tried to warn Holmes about the events in Germany and he had responded by silencing me, telling me that perhaps it was for the best. Nothing I said or tried to say would convince him, and even when I confronted him on the rooftop he just but he just brushed me off as he deduced the area where the shot would have been taken.

"Are you alright?" Watson asked, and I realised I had been holding my stomach whilst I was lost in my thoughts. "Are you hurt?"

"I must've eaten something funny," I replied, not daring to blame the hedgehog goulash with Simza sitting at the table with us.

"You haven't eaten anything yet," pointed out Watson. I had been avoiding eating because I didn't know if that was medically advisable whilst your stomach is bleeding and thought that it would definitely hurt me to do so.

"Exactly," I replied, taking a sip of water to make it look like I hadn't lost my appetite and hoping Watson was planning on giving me an examination.

"Then why don't you have something to eat?" asked Simza, who seemed unaware of the situation and the true purpose of Watson's questions. I mentally cursed her name, trying to think of a reasonable explanation and making sure my brain didn't keep telling me to say that I'm not hungry because earlier statements contradicted that.

"Maybe later," I said dismissively, pulling my hand away from my stomach and concentrating on doing some finger exercises which were meant to allow you to use both sides of your brain at once.

"Why not now?" queried the doctor, and I bit my lip hesitantly as I considered telling the truth. I mean I was obviously not fooling him- he knew something was wrong and I couldn't continue to lie to him forever. Besides, he was only trying to look out for me and it wasn't fair for me to make him worried- especially considering he no doubt has Mary on his mind thanks to Holmes bizarre methods of 'saving' people.

"Can I speak to you privately?" I asked Watson, and his eyes showed surprise before he nodded in agreement. I had to tell him not to worry, to make sure he knew I was okay- even if I wasn't- and I tried to figure out a game plan as we headed into a nearby alleyway that was thankfully deserted.

"Tell me the truth," began the doctor before I could speak, and I fiddled with the cuff of the shirt as I awaited his questions. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gazed at me earnestly in an attempt to gain my trust. "Are you alright?"

I hesitated once again, my eyes unconsciously looking down to my stomach, Watson frowned as he placed his hand on it and either saw me flinch or felt the bandages- or perhaps both. He cautiously lifted up the shirt, spotting the blood-stained bandages on my stomach and I saw his jaw clench as he looked back up at me. He seemed really angry and I was really nervous as he tried to find the right words to say.

"It's not as bad as it seems," I began, and that's when he raised a hand to stop me.

"Not as bad as it seems?" he questioned angrily. "You're bleeding and I think that gives an indication as to how bad it is- we need to take you to a hospital."

"No!" I protested, grabbing his arms as he made to go off. "It's not important-"

"Not important? If we don't get it seen to then you could die of blood loss or infection- do you want a repeat of what happened when you were kidnapped?" He sighed as I flinched, pulling me into a hug as he stroked my hair soothingly. "I know that you care about Holmes and you want to help him solve this case, but you shouldn't just push your own health out of the way because of it. Right now maybe he thinks you're doing him a favour, but in the long run he's going to regret doing this to you and that's especially so if something really bad happens."

"He won't regret it- he doesn't actually care about me," I replied, forcing myself not to cry. "He's more like a machine than a man."

"He used to be- but he does care about you a great deal, even if he doesn't realise it himself," he explained and I thought back to some of the times where Holmes had showed emotions towards me. "Trust me, he may be able to figure everything out about other people but he has a harder time figuring himself out."

"Watson, what are you doing?"

Holmes had appeared in the alleyway, looking between the two of us curiously as we stepped apart and using his deduction skills to figure out what had happened.

"Alex needs to go to a hospital," Watson replied firmly, making it clear that he wouldn't be allowing Holmes to disagree with him- not that the detective wouldn't give it a good try.

"And why is that?" he asked stiffly, folding his arms as he stared back at Watson. "She appears to be in perfect health to me."

"Holmes- you know full well that is not the case," Watson pointed out sternly. "You know as well as I do that she is injured."

"If that is the case then you have not yet had chance to observe said injuries to see how serious they are."

They continued with their argument whilst I considered which side I should take- after all if I agreed with Watson and I was taken to hospital, I could prevent Holmes from getting tortured – at the cost of us being unable to make it to the peace summit and prevent the assassination, bringing world war a couple of decades too early. On the other side I could continue on in my state, risk my own death, let Holmes get tortured and go over the falls whilst at the same time preventing Moriarty's triumph. For me it all boiled down to Holmes- I wanted him to live, I wanted him to stay by my side and I didn't want to have him suffer so much. But I couldn't afford to let my emotions get the better of me and plunge the world into chaos just because I was too selfish to let him go. He might also never forgive me for making him fail, knowing that I had information as to the events that would follow and in the end it was only to easy to know which course I would have to take.

"I'm fine," I interceded, both men looking at me as I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "It just looks like a lot of blood because I haven't had chance to change the bandages."

Watson looked annoyed with me, but Holmes was smirking in triumph and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at his childish competiveness, wondering if he did indeed actually care about me. The doctor appeared to be going to say something, but as we met each others gaze he saw my stubbornness and shook his head in weariness.

"She's becoming more like you," he said to Holmes, who walked over to me and kissed me on the forehead.

"Yes she is," he replied smugly, and we walked out of the alley to go and re-join Madam Simza at the café where Holmes promptly explained his findings and told us of our next destination. He was eager to leave at once, but Watson was determined to make sure that I had something to eat before we left and by the time everything was ready Holmes was practically dancing in anticipation and impatience. Madam Simza stood by a group of horses, several of her fellow gypsies with us and already ready to leave- even the scarf-pinching man whose name escaped me. She told us that we had to blend in, me grinning to myself as I had already pinched Watsons's hat and was now wearing it proudly much to the detective's amusement.

"Are you enjoying that hat?" he asked, as we walked along. "You haven't stopped smiling since you put it on."

"I am enjoying it very much," I replied, linking my arm with his. "It's a very nice hat- but not as nice as yours."

Simza was waiting for us by four horses, and I immediately sense Holmes tense up slightly as we approached them.

"The black one is yours," she said to Watson, then pointed to a horse that looked like Spirit from _Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. _"This is Alex's, the grey one in mine and this one is for you."

Holmes looked at the horse in question as though it was about to pounce on him and savage him to death. I raised an eyebrow at him when he looked at me, stroking the muzzle of my own horse and trying not to laugh at him.

"Ah, hmm, right- where are the wagons?" asked Holmes after clearing his throat and taking a step away from the horse.

"The wagon is too slow," replied Madam Simza, turning back to look at the detective with a questioning gaze. "Can't you ride?"

"It's not that he can't ride…" began Watson, then turned as well to face Holmes. "How is it you put it, Holmes?"

"They're dangerous at both ends, and crafty in the middle," replied the detective and I was now failing to hide my grin. "Why would I want anything with a mind of its own bobbing about between my legs?"

"So if it doesn't have a mind it's okay?" Holmes shot a glare at me before walking away from the horses.

"Then I should require a bicycle thank you very much. It's 1891- could have chartered a balloon," said the man huffily, acting like a stubborn child.

"How can we make this more manageable?" Watson asked Simza.

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

My lungs were still hurting from silent laughter as we rode along, the knowledge coming back to me easily and as soon as I had took hold of Spirit's reigns. I was still trying not to laugh as I rode alongside Holmes, the others gone off ahead and the only reason I was staying around was to poke fun at him.

"For someone who wants to save the world you're taking your time," I commented, looking down at the frowning detective

"Slow and steady wins the race," he retorted, and I replied with a snort of amusement. "Don't believe me?"

"What I don't believe is that the world's greatest detective is afraid of riding a horse," I said, and he shot me a glare.

"I'm not afraid of horse-riding," he replied stiffly, and I rolled my eyes in response.

"Sure you're not."

"I'm not," confirmed Holmes, then looked up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Do you want me to prove it?"

"I'm not riding the pony," I replied, shaking my head. "Only one of us needs to look like an idiot and you've got that post covered."

"I meant that I ride with you," he corrected with a frown, not happy at my comment. "And I do not look like an idiot."

"Sure you don't- because a grown man riding a mini pony doesn't look stupid at all," I responded sarcastically. "Beside, I'm pretty sure the saddle is made for one person only."

"Admittedly it is true there would be some discomfort- but I'm sure that the beast-"

"Spirit," I interrupted, and he gave me a questioning look. "Continue."

"I'm sure that _Spirit _could handle both our weights much better than this pony could handle mine," he explained. "Plus then we can go much faster."

I grinned, wondering if my earlier comment had prompted this action and wondering what Madam Simza would think when she found out we ditched her pony- well they were going to get ditched anyway so no problem there.

"Fine," I replied, and we halted as Holmes switched from the poor little pony to Spirit. Which meant we were now sitting way too close to each other what with the saddle sloping inwards and the bobbing movements from the horse didn't help our embarrassment either. "Now shall we catch up to the others?"

Without waiting for an answer I urged the horse into greater speeds, one hand holding on to my hat and the other guiding Spirit. Holmes had wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, his head over my shoulder in order to stop my hair blowing into his face and in seconds we had caught up to the others.

"Please do not do that again," said Holmes as we slowed down again, Watson shooting us an amused look and Holmes still not loosening his grip around my waist. He could pretend to be calm, but I could feel his heart racing.

"What's the matter Holmes?" asked Watson, obviously enjoying this as much as I was- well probably not, after all he didn't have Mary sitting behind him.

"I'm riding with a mad woman," he replied.

"Well this mad woman knows how to make a horse rear up," I threatened, and judging from the tighter grip and laughter from the gypsies- it had succeeded.

We continued to ride on, Holmes grip eventually becoming looser as we went along until his arms were resting on my thighs and he became totally calm with it. Of course he didn't seem to notice how embarrassing it was for me to have his arms that low- either that or it was revenge for the scare, and combined with the fact I could feel his chest against my back and his breath down my neck it was making it very hard to relax.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" I asked him as we overtook the others, Holmes eager to get to our destination and urging me to hurry on. "You like making me feel uncomfortable."

"I'm making you uncomfortable am I?" he asked, purposefully breathing into my ear and I responded my elbowing him sharply. "Now, now- there's no need for that."

"Honestly- I prefer you when you didn't have a sense of humour," I replied, his chuckle making me laugh. "I can feel it when you chuckle- that's how close we are."

"But surely since we are a couple it is perfectly fine for us to be this close to one another?" questioned Holmes, and I shivered at the word couple. Sure it was an experiment, but the thought of being a couple with Holmes sent butterflies to my stomach- followed by an ache as I remembered what was to come. "Do I repel you?"

I blinked in surprise, the question sounding harmless enough but my intuition told me there was hidden emotion in that sentence- but which ones I didn't know.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You shivered as I said we were a couple," explained Holmes. "That would suggest a sense of repulsion regarding that statement which would in turn mean that I repel you."

"You don't," I replied firmly, leaning back into the man. "I shivered because I was excited- I like being a couple with you, and you know that."

If Holmes was going to say something then, it was interrupted as we approached our destination and we got our first glimpse at the dark town which would serve as the means to Holmes torture.


	34. Chapter 34: The Trout

My grip tightened slightly on Holmes's arm as we walked past another German soldier, heart racing in my chest as we made our way through this military hotspot and tried not to attract the suspicions- or bullets- of them, which would have been made for both the case and western civilisation. Although to be honest those two things weren't high up on my list of things to be worried about as I looked up at the tall lighthouse style building which seemed to me to resemble those legends of the spirits which would lure it's victims to their deaths with their lights. But Holmes wasn't going to die I reminded myself constantly, trying not to let myself get too carried away with my concern for the detective as if he did know he would probably still do it knowing that in the end he would stop Moriarty- and it wasn't as if he cared for his body on a normal day, with all those harmful and neglectful behaviours which often left me wondering if I was dealing with an overgrown child rather than the greatest detective the world will ever know.

"You're doing a grand job of cutting of the flow of blood in my arm," he commented offhandedly, and I shot a glare at him. He replied with a quick smirk and I considered beating him up myself, at least it would knock those stupid smirks of his face for a good while. "Perhaps you could consider loosening your grip- I'm not going to suddenly dash off and leave you two to deal with Moriarty."

"Didn't doubt you for a second," I replied dryly, ignoring Watson's questioning gaze. "I'm just so excited I can barely contain it."

"Sarcasm does not suit you." Holmes looked at me with that all-knowing gaze which showed he knew exactly what was bothering me- well, as close as to exactly as he could get without being able to see the future.

"Does it suit anyone?" I asked, and received silence in reply. We continued to walk onwards, the glances from the soldiers containing normal amounts of suspicion for people who are expecting the enemy to come marching over the horizon at a moments notice. Our path led us steadily closer to the light, which presumably had gone unnoticed by both Watson and Holmes- but I knew better than to doubt Holmes's observational skills. The sky became darker, temperatures dropping, the few remaining civilians evacuating from the street and leaving a foreboding feeling about this whole thing. An abandoned wagon stood by itself outside the telegram place… office that Watson would soon enter to send our message to Mycroft whilst Holmes snuck into the weapons factory and landed himself in a whole load of trouble. Halting next to it, the detective handed Watson the telegram in question and gave him his instructions.

"What about Alex?" asked the doctor, voicing the question that had just flashed through my mind. "Who will she be going with?"

"I was rather hoping you would keep her with you," was Holmes's answer, and I felt a spark of rebelliousness surge through me. Perhaps I couldn't stop Holmes from going, but I could at least try to get him to take me and stop Moriarty from sinking his hook into him- literally in this case.

"Why can't I come with you?" I asked, meeting his gaze with a look that showed my commitment to that course of action. "You need someone to stop you from getting into trouble."

"And whilst I trust you wholeheartedly with my life I'm not sure Watson would appreciate my dragging you into so precarious a position," Holmes replied, and I folded my arms against my chest in a show of childish defiance.

"Shouldn't you be the one who's more concerned with that?" I questioned.

"Are you intending to make this more difficult than it already is?" He countered, Watson choosing this moment to step out of our way and give us a little privacy. "You know I'm not going to change my mind."

"Doesn't mean I can't try," I pointed out, then walked towards the detective and wrapping my arms around his neck in a quick hug. "You could at least promise that you'll be careful."

"You wouldn't believe me even if I did," he said, then sighed. "I promise to _try_ and be more careful."

"Guess that's better than nothing," I replied and he offered a small, empty smile before kissing me on the forehead. "For a genius, you can be so stupid sometimes."

"And I'm quite sure that if you could change me, you wouldn't," he countered and I laughed quietly. "Now perhaps we should go on our way before things take a wrong turn."

Every fibre of my being is screaming at me to tell him that I don't want him to go, that I don't want to hear his tortured screams , that I don't want to have to go through the pain and fear of almost losing him, that I would rather we saved him than stopped Moriarty… and I also know that everything will go the way it's supposed to, but my emotions are overrunning me and when Holmes start to walk away I turn back to Watson with a heavy heart.

"Are you okay?" Watson asked, and I nod in reply even though we both know that isn't true. "Don't worry, Holmes can take care of himself."

As we walk up the steps to the door, I found myself disagreeing with the doctor and bite my lips to stop the protests erupting from y mouth. After all he was only trying to reassure me, and he had his own problems to deal with as well. Opening the door, he did a quick check to make sure no-one was watching before we went inside the building and went about sending the telegram. I was still struggling with what had just happened, gritting my teeth as I berated myself for not trying hard enough to stop this- I barely did anything about it! I went on and on about how much I cared about him and wanted to stop this from happening and yet I barely tried!

"Fuck this!" I shouted, punching the wall out of anger and ignoring Watson's surprise at my outburst. Resting y head against the wall I felt tears coming to my eyes as I imagined everyone telling me it was my fault- my fault that Holmes had suffered so much, and my fault that he went over the falls. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Watson approaching cautiously, as though at any moment I might turn my anger on him instead, and when he reached me he reached out gently to look at the fist I'd used to hit the wall- my knuckles were bleeding and I realised I must have hit the wall harder than I thought.

"It's okay Alex," he said soothingly, using his other hand to rub my back. "I know how you feel-"

"No you don't," I snapped, turning around to face him. "You have no idea how I feel!"

But my agitation doesn't bother him as he pulls me into a hug, stroking my hair soothingly as I cry into his chest and imagine Holmes complaining about me being overemotional, leaving me to sort myself out whilst Watson always seemed to be there to comfort me- and that had become quite a lot recently. I wondered how I would manage when Holmes was gone, he would be alive but how long would it be before he actually came back? Would I be stuck for months on end at Baker Street by myself whilst Watson forgot all about us as he started the family he'd always wanted?

"No-one's going to blame you," I heard Watson say soothingly, surprising me by kissing me lightly on the forehead and I realised that he wouldn't forget us- we were his family. He and Holmes were brothers whilst he said that I was like a younger sister to him, and if anything he would keep an eye on me when Holmes had fallen, he would make sure I was all right. "It's not your fault."

Too much time with Holmes had enlightened him into my thought processes, and I was glad because those few words made me feel so much better. I let him wipe my eyes dry before taking him off guard with another hug and just letting him hold me, letting his actions speak louder than words as I fought of the guilt I felt oppressing me.

"Maybe we should go now," I offered, and Watson nodded his agreement so we finished with the telegram and left the building, walking down to the abandoned wagon and him pulling the note out that Holmes had left.

"Come at once if convenient," he read, and then flipped it over. "If inconvenient come all the same."

He looked at the picture of the lighthouse-style building and we both turned to look at it before heading towards it in a silent agreement. We managed to avoid getting delayed by the soldiers, taking many side-routes in order to avoid them and eventually coming into the yard of the factory itself, sudden shouts halting us. A German soldier came over, shouting at us as he pointed his gun towards us, and my gaze slid past him as I raised my hands above my head and knelt down. Moran was no doubt up there ready to shoot Watson and I, but I was confused when I wasn't shot down since the soldier only blocked Watson fro his view. Don't get me wrong I was glad I hadn't been killed, but I was so scared by it that I didn't even move when the soldier was shot.

"Come on!" shouted Watson, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the way as Moran began to fire on us, ducking behind a metal column and pulling against him as we slid to the ground. Safe, for the moment.

"Now what?" I asked, trying to make my tone seem light and unbothered. Watson tried to peer out, but a shot made him quickly retract his head.

"No idea," he replied as music began to play from the speakers and my heart froze as I realised what it was.

_Die Forelle._

"Oh god," I gasped out, just as the screaming began.


	35. Chapter 35: The Shock

I froze in anguish as the sound of _Die Forelle _combined with the sound of Holmes's screams wrenched through me and Watson was forced to wrap one arm tightly around my waist in case I tried to run off into the building. But I couldn't have moved even if we weren't being targeted by Moran because the mixture of all the feelings surging inside me now had me clasping my hands to my face and wishing it would just stop. Those screams, those screams which hurt me so much more than any poison or gunshot were torturing me in a way that rendered me completely useless to Watson, who was looking around for away to get rid of the colonel so we could in turn save Holmes. Realising that I forced myself to be strong- if I wanted to help Holmes then acting like a frightened baby wasn't going to help. I looked about for those tell-tale earmuffs whilst Watson held out his hat experimentally, Moran quick to shoot a hole in it and smiling as I spotted the headgear. I got Watson's attention my elbowing him sharply, pointing to them and letting him figure out the rest.

"Go forward quickly and climb onto the platform," he whispered into my ear, as though afraid Moran could hear us. "I'll be right behind you."

I didn't need further persuasion and I ran across to the ladder which led up to the platform. Watson was indeed right behind me, soon joining me on the platform and handing me the earmuffs as he set about aiming the device. It didn't take him long to figure out how it worked so we worked on loading it and then I stood back and let him aim it. The sheet covering the weapon soon fell off and we could once again see the lighthouse, the sudden exposure making me feel vulnerable again and making me stand just a bit closer to the doctor as the weapon found its target. When he fired it I automatically covered my ears, the loud bang penetrating the earmuffs and making my head ring. That sound was then replaced by a rumbling as the tower collapsed, Watson and I watching silently as it fell towards the building in which Holmes was being interrogated. There was an almighty crash as it hit the building, caving the roof in and bringing down most of it.

There was a few second pause before I threw off the earmuff and we were both climbing off the weapon, running towards the rubble as we went to find Holmes. Watson was ahead of me despite his limp, and was quick to uncover the detective.

"How did you know we would find you?" asked Watson, I having mentioned that I couldn't remember the exact details when I told them about the film.

"You didn't find me, you collapsed a building on me," he replied weakly, and we both flinched as Watson pulled the meat hook out of his shoulder. "Perhaps I should have listened to you, Alex."

"It's a bit too late for that," I pointed out, kissing him lightly on the forehead and then setting to work helping Watson uncover the rest of him. Helping him to his feet, Watson pulled one of his arms around his shoulder to support him whilst Holmes used his other arm to hold his bleeding shoulder. I stayed close to them as we made our way across the rubble, watching to help them if it seemed like they were struggling and keeping an eye out for when Moriarty's forces would begin there assault on us.

"Can you take him for a sec?" asked the doctor as we entered the weapons storage, moving over to support Holmes as he set about getting some new weapons and I tried my best not to hurt Holmes.

"Were you worried?" he asked quietly, when Watson was out of earshot and I looked at the detective so he could see my face properly. "You were worried then."

"Worried? I was scared out of my mind! All of that screaming!" I shuddered at the thought, feeling tears come to my eyes and trying hard to dismiss them. He wouldn't want to deal with me if I was crying, even if we were together overemotional women weren't something he wanted to deal with and I knew that. "I was actually considering marching in and taking on Moriarty myself."

He chuckled weakly, though we both knew that if I could have I probably would have and I shifted him slightly so he was easier to support. Watson came back with the guns, but I offered to continue to support him seeing as guns were something I'd never used and never wanted to- so he took up guard behind us as the first of the soldiers arrived. One appeared in front of us, quickly took down by Holmes and I flinched at the bang, him using the arm that was around my shoulder to hold his gun- the other still holding his shoulder.

"Sorry," apologised the detective and I just shook my head in dismissal.

"Worse things have happened," I replied, just as a bullet whipped between us and barely missed hitting Watson. Holmes quickly retaliated and caught the soldier in the leg, knocking him to the ground. "Those were just a few examples."

"We need to hurry up!" Watson shouted, just as he began to fire the machine gun that he was carrying around his waist and the loud banging drowned out his voice.

"Agreed," replied Holmes and we sped up, walking as fast as he could manage without straining himself too much and still being able to shoot the soldiers approaching from the front.

"Come on!" shouted Madam Simza as she came over, and we followed her outside the building as we met up with the other gypsies. I focused on helping Holmes as more and more soldiers arrived, guns being fired in all directions along with words of hurry from the gypsies. We arrived at a wall, which was much taller than me but they scaled with ease and we had to stop.

"I don't think we can climb over that," I commented, just as there was a loud explosion and a huge hole was blown in the wall by the enemy. "Much better."

We were now in the woods, but still not free as we all ran as fast as we could away from the place and prayed to god that none of the bullets that were being fired hit us. Holmes and I were unable to keep up with the others, falling behind slightly as we ran in a bizarre twist to the three-legged race.

"I think I can manage on my own now," he managed to say, just after a bullet grazed my neck, and before I could protest he had pulled away and we were able to catch up with the others. But the worst wasn't over, and there was a loud explosion followed by a shockwave which knocked all of us to the ground. I lay there stunned for a moment before I saw the soldiers converging on us and made a quick decision. I ran other to where Holmes was as a soldier approached him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face and snatching his gun from him. An age of watching movies with guns in gave me a basic idea about how this worked, and I put aside my morals as I aimed. I paused for only a millisecond before firing it and hitting one of the soldiers between the eyes.

"Are you sure you've never used a gun before?" asked Holmes as he got to his feet and we continued to run. "You have a very good aim."

"It helps with the kyusho," I replied, before twisting around and firing at another soldier.

There was a noise in the distance which I immediately recognised as the train- we were almost there, we were almost safe. More shots were fired and I watched in horror as one of the gypsies was shot, but quickly recovered and kept up my pace as my muscles began to burn and ache. I may have been fit, but none of the things I had ever done included running for my life with a hurt stomach, a cut neck and people trying to kill you. But it was that will to survive that kept us going and we were soon boarding the train. Simza and I got on first, both helping Holmes to get up, then the other gypsy and finally Watson- there was one man left and I turned away as he was shot down by Moran.

I collapsed onto the floor with a sigh, sitting cross-legged and half-tempted to meditate in order to clear out my troubled mind. Instead I settled for humming, picking _Still Alive _by _Lisa Miskovsky_, and shifted slightly as Holmes chose that moment to lie down, resting his head in my lap with Simza and Watson sitting either side of him. Absentmindedly I began to stroke his hair, still humming as I closed my eyes and imagined. I imagined that we were back at Baker Street, in his room and on the tiger skin rug as he puzzled over the latest case, I imagined that we were on holiday in the countryside- anywhere except here on this train with all the misery and death.

"He's not breathing."

Those three words shattered the walls I'd created and I was dragged back to reality, opening my eyes as I looked down at the still form of Holmes. Watson immediately checked to see if he had a pulse, and I lifted Holmes's head from my lap as he attempted CPR on. Simza placed her hand on mine in an effort to stop me from panicking as tears began to well up in my eyes and I held my breath. What if he died? What if he actually died? I was trapped in painful suspense which I cannot describe in words, how is it possible to describe the pure agony and fear that comes with the thought of losing the one you love? It isn't something you can understand until it has happened to you.

"I know you can here me you selfish bastard!" shouted Watson, his attempts to revive Holmes getting more violent and I quickly went over to pull him off, also reaching into his pocket for the syringe. I may not have been a doctor but I knew where his heart was and I injected him with the adrenaline before Watson had realised what I'd done. A few seconds passed, during which I wondered if I had been too late, when Holmes suddenly shot up and ran across the box car and into the wall.

"I just had the most peculiar dream," he commented, as I allowed the relief of the moment to sink into me. "It was Watson, Alex, Mary, Gladstone and I at a restaurant- there was a satanic pony with a fork in its hoof and it was laughing at me! What have you administered?"

"Your wedding present apparently," Watson replied, myself struggling to find the ability to speak and retreating over to the opening in the car and sitting down with my legs over the edge- he's alright, I reminded myself- he's alright.

But if this much shocked me how was I to deal with the falls?


	36. Chapter 36: The Day

We arrived at Switzerland with a day to spare, Mycroft graciously allowing us to stay with him in the house he was using for the event- since he preferred to stay away from the other diplomats- and we all had our wounds seen too before we were given free reign and a chance to relax before we arrived at the final problem. I had taken to his way of thinking and chose to remain in my room, lying in the middle of the overly large and plush bed as my mind replayed the train incident over and over. It was like being trapped in an endless nightmare that followed you even when you were awake, and reminded you constantly that the worst yet to come. I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it as I let out a smothered scream in an attempt to rid myself of all the emotions that were flitting around my head. I'd grown so emotional since I came here- crying all the time and complaining because Holmes didn't love me back, and even though I used to complain all the time about these kind of things I knew there were more important things to deal with.

"Bad day?" I lifted up the pillow to see Holmes standing at the end of the bed, and then brought it back down. "Are you ignoring me now?"

I didn't reply, even when I felt him climb onto the bed and settle himself beside me. There was a moments pause before he grabbed the pillow, wrenched it out of my grip and throwing it away so I would have to look at him.

"There are other pillows you know," I pointed out, rolling onto my side so we were mere inches away from each other.

"You'd run out eventually," he replied calmly, running a hand through my hair. "Were you really worried about me?"

I was surprised by the question, reading the genuine confusion in his eyes, and probably my face reflected that confusion.

"Even though you knew I would survive, Watson told me that you were still as upset as if though you were unaware of the events- why is that?" He chewed his lip in thought as he mused over the question, genuinely unable to work it out. "It makes no sense for you to be worried if you knew the outcome- unless you had a genuine reason to doubt the outcome, perhaps because something changed?"

"You're an idiot." I smacked him lightly on the forehead, ignoring his childish pout and finding a way to explain to him. "I was worried because even though I knew you would live… I couldn't help thinking you were going to die."

"But why?" he insisted and I let out a groan, rolling over to face away from the detective- how could I explain it to a man who looked down on such things, there were no words I could use to explain to him how I felt. "Watson said that I should apologise… not that I know why-"

"Because!" I snapped, sitting upright and rolling over to face the detective once more. "I was so worried- when I heard your screaming I hated it more than anything else, and when I saw how bad it was really it made me sick. Maybe it doesn't matter to you because you can put aside all of these feelings, but for me it was worse than anything else in the world."

He sat up as well, his mind working to try and understand what it was that was upsetting me. I don't know why, but that was upsetting as well- perhaps because I had hoped that he had been becoming a bit more… emotional. It had seemed that he was getting in touch with the more emotional side of people and he was still completely baffled about why I had been worried.

"It… must have been painful for you to see me like that," he said finally, and even though I wasn't completely convinced that he understood I let it go. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine- you're okay now," I replied, blocking out the negative thoughts that were coming to me as I tried to focus on the fact I could spend this day with just Holmes and enjoy his company for one last time before he went over the falls. For all I knew this could be the last chance I had, even if I had seen that he survived I hadn't read the books or seen any of the other shows or movies- and even if I had it could still change, he could die this time and then I would be left to pick up the pieces of my life. "Well, as okay as can be expected."

I reached out tentatively to place my hand lightly on his shoulder, feeling the bandage underneath his shirt and being reminded of the ones on my neck and stomach. Reaching to my own again, I placed a hand on my neck and watched as he copied my moves, placing his hand on top of mine.

"Do you think we've got enough uninjured parts to make at least one good person?" I asked, and he smirked slightly. "You can be the brains since you're so much smarter, but I get to be the parts that kick butt."

"That's fine with me," said, then leant forward and kissed my lightly on the lips. "It means that I don't have to deal with your irrationality concerning your emotions- Watson has told me you were quite tearful during your moments with alone with him."

"Well I'm dealing with it fine now," I pointed out, running my free hand through his hair and then kissing him. "I didn't think you'd appreciate my breaking down around you, since hysterical women are not your area."

"Perhaps not, but it makes me feel inadequate if you are taking your problems to my best friend rather than letting me help you deal with them."

"And how would you help me deal with them?" I queried. "I don't see emotional support as one of your top skills."

"Maybe not, but there are certain… ways that alleviate stress and can be used to release pent-up emotions that I can assist you with," he replied, and I stared back at him in confusion. "Perhaps I should allow my actions to explain rather than my words."

"You wha-?" He cut me off with a kiss, moving his hand to the back of my neck as he kissed me more forcefully and pushed me down against the bed. His other hand trailed down my side as he shifted over to straddle me, pulling away and looking at me with a teasing smile. "Ah- I see."

**#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#**

My face was still flushed as I pulled on the gown I would be expected to wear to the Peace Summit, I wasn't sure who had got this but I was beginning to suspect that Holmes might have done it because all of them were outlandish- this one was a dark purple which turned to black at the end of the sleeves and rim. Holmes was busy putting on his own suit, muttering under his breath about lord knows what and I just hoped that he wasn't making mental notes about our earlier actions- although that would probably be somewhat normal for a man.

"How do you feel now?" He slowly came over to stand beside me, pulling my hair from the back of the dress and wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. "Did that help at all?"

"What do you think?" I asked, leaning back into him and stroking out a few wrinkles in the dress. "If that's what you do every time _you're_ stressed then I have no idea why you are so against love."

"That was the first time I have ever participated in such actions," he responded, then tilted his head slightly as a thought crossed his mind and he chuckled lightly. "I don't believe Watson would be happy that we have consummated our relationship before marriage."

"That was random," I commented, then frowned as a thought crossed _my _mind. "Were you planning on telling him or something?"

"No- Watson just happens to be quite insightful when it comes to relationships so I would imagine he would be easily able to tell," he explained, and then added as an afterthought: "As would my brother."

That wasn't a very pleasing thought, and if that wasn't bad enough he also voiced his next thought.

"It would certainly make things more difficult if you were to become pregnant."

An awkward silence followed as we considered the possibility, neither of us wanting children or being suitable parents either- and the fact that it would interfere with our work was also bad.

"We could always give it to Watson," I suggested and we both chuckled slightly, my stomach clenching as I thought about the falls and then realising that perhaps he wouldn't stay away for long.

"You could always give what to me?"

We watched as Watson walked into the room, trying not let our guilt show and stepping apart from each other. He frowned as he looked between us, Holmes doing much better at pretending nothing had happened and I trying not to blush as my mind told me he knew.

"Can we help you?" asked Holmes, when it became apparent that no-one was going to say anything. "Has Moriarty accidently got crushed by a building?"

"I was actually going to tell you it's time to get going," Watson replied, looking annoyed at the detective. "We're going to the Peace Summit now."


	37. Chapter 37: The Final Problem

I felt nervous; looking around at all these high ranking people was like a reminder of the Christmas ball and that wasn't a pleasant memory- it was also not suited for a moment like this. Standing between Holmes and Watson I looked around the room; the prime ministers, the presidents and the ambassadors all chatting or dancing with their wives. The high quality waiters making the way around the edge of the room, offering everyone drinks and that faint tension as they waited eagerly for a reason to go to war.

"He'll need to pick a moment when everyone is standing still," Holmes explained, and then turned to his brother. "Is there to be an official photograph?"

"Yes, in 38 minutes," replied the elder Holmes after consulting his pocket watch.

"Excellent." He turned to me and offered his hand. "Care to dance?"

I accepted his hand, allowing him to take me to the dance floor and pull me in as we began to dance. His face showed a calm façade which was ruined only my the look in his eyes which betrayed his anxiety as they darted about in an attempt to locate Rene- my advice would be of no help here as he already knew about the surgery and I could not remember which man he was now.

"What would you do?" I asked him suddenly, bringing up the question that had been plaguing my mind since the possibility first arose. His gaze became fixed on me, an eyebrow raised as he looked at me questioningly. "If I was pregnant."

"Please don't say such things," he said, a pained look appearing on his face. "I would only like to deal with that if it happened- and even then I couldn't say I'd be pleased with it."

"And you think I would?" I queried, spotting Moran out of the corner of my eye and automatically gripping Holmes tighter. "I don't want to have children."

"You don't want to have children _yet_," he corrected. "It is natural for a woman to want children in her life, the continuation of the species depends on this so although you may not feel it now you will later develop the desire."

We were now getting a few disapproving looks from the other dancing couples, and anyone else who happened to overhear our conversation. Judging from the look on Watson's face as he waited with Simza on the sidelines he knew what we were talking about and I suddenly felt the need for fresh air.

"Are you sure about that? Because I want very much to disagree with you," I said, subconsciously scanning the room for Moriarty and chewing on my lip in my worry. "Wouldn't that mean men would get the desire as well?"

"Maybe so, but I am above those base instincts," the detective replied.

"And a woman can't be?" I countered, before excusing myself from him and heading away from the others and towards the door that led to the balcony. I could feel Holmes's gaze following me as I stepped through it and on to the snow-covered area. Walking over to the rail I leant over the frozen stone as I stared down at the plunging waters of the fall and took a deep, shuddering breath.

This is where it was going to happen, where Moriarty would meet his end and Holmes would fall but still survive- how anyone could survive something like this was beyond me and as I saw the falls sending up sprays out water I remembered the calm look on his face when he fell. How could he stay so calm when faced with this? Had he been expecting to die and had already accepted the fact? How could he still fall when he saw Watson come out onto the balcony?

Brushing of some of the snow, I watched it fall down and get swallowed by the falls. To think that in less than an hour Holmes would be gone, it was a harsh reality to be faced with and I placed my hand over my mouth.

"You're going to catch a cold if you stay out here."

The world seemed to slow down at the sound of that voice, and I swallowed the sudden rise of fear as I turned to face the man who would be dead within an hour- that single thought giving me consolation.

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?" I asked coldly, folding my arms across my chest and trying to stop myself from shivering. "Come to ask me some more random questions are you?"

"So you still haven't figured out the significance of our last conversation have you?" asked the criminal, running his hand across the chessboard as he walked over to me. "Holmes already has it figured out- didn't you wonder why he dropped the case when he found out you'd met me? Or did you just put it down as another of his bizarre personality traits?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about." I watched him carefully as he came to stand next to me, not giving him the satisfaction of my moving away from him.

"When Holmes got on to the roof, he was introduced to one of my men and they informed him of our meeting and the truth behind it- which is why he went around acting like he dislike you from then on," explained Moriarty, watching me carefully for any reaction. "But of course he had foolishly allowed his heart to rule his head and was in far too deep for him to get out, which makes him your weakness- and that means he fell right into my trap without even realising it."

"What trap?" Part of me was determined to find out what this man was dragging on about, but another part told me I shouldn't- that this was only going to end badly. I wasn't going to let him get to me and I wasn't going to let him hurt Holmes.

"How do you think you got here?" He asked, a lazy smirk appearing on his face as my eyes widened in realisation. "Do you think it was just some random occurrence that you were brought to our world? All it took was a few simple equations and the help of some old friends and I was able to do what no man has done before- I created a pathway between dimensions and went with the purpose of bringing back a young woman whose fiery spirit and independent nature could do what no other person did and make Holmes love. It was only by coincidence that I arrived in your small town, but Moran's eye which brought you to our attention. We only got a small glimpse of your personality, but it was more than enough to convince us that you were the one we needed and so we waited until you were alone and brought you back. Our little meeting later on was to make sure that all was going to plan, and to make sure that you still hadn't remembered how you had got here. Then when the time came we revealed the plan to Holmes, hoping to see him struggle to get out once he realised he was swimming into a trap- but he soon realised this would not work and so decided to pursue a relationship with you whilst proclaiming that he wasn't going to be defeated by so trivial an emotion."

"You brought me here," I said, trying to get past the notion- Moriarty had done it, he had kidnapped me and dragged me to his world in order to make me fall in love with Holmes and act as a tool of his in order for him to defeat the great detective. But it that was the case… "Then you can send me back."

"I could," confirmed the man, not bothering to hide his triumph as he watched me struggle internally. "You could go back home and pick up your life from where you left it- end the worries of your family and friends, go back to leading a normal life with no worries about being endangered or suffering at the hands of criminals. You don't belong here, and you know it is only a matter of time until Holmes loses interest with you- he will chuck you away like a broken toy once he's found out all your little secrets, and the good doctor will be too busy starting up a family of his own to bother with you. It's only a matter of time until that voice in the back of your head that whispers to you, telling you to go home will get louder and louder and life here will slowly suffocate you- and the only chance you've got to go back is by accepting my offer. I ask nothing in return, only warn you that I am the only one who can send you home and if I perish then so does your chance at true freedom. So, do you want to go home?"

I thought back to my times here, remembering my journey from the beginning to its present- would I be able to leave that? Would I be able to just abandon Holmes and Watson? Everyone I'd ever come in to contact? Could I leave behind this amazing life and head back to my own dull one? I though of my family, they probably believed I was dead- the only hope they had to cling on being one that no body had been found. They would spend their whole lives worrying over me, wanting me to come home and I had put them through this pain- was I willing to continue it? Did I want my family to suffer? To have everyone tell them to give up hope because I was probably long dead whilst in reality I was leading another life in another world without a single thought of them?

But could I really leave behind this life? Leave behind my friend Watson? He'd been kinder to me than anyone I knew, always looking out for me and lending a helping hand when I needed it. Always the proper gentleman, being so polite and dropping Victorian formalities just to comfort me when I was feeling sad? But he would have Mary, and as much as I disliked the woman I was glad that he was happy- he could enjoy a long life with her and have the family he'd always wanted. But I would miss him so much, and only know could I truly understand why Holmes didn't want him to marry- I had become so close to him that the idea of being without him was ridiculous, and Holmes… I loved him, I loved him so much that I couldn't possibly leave him. He was a brilliant man, a stupid genius who acts so childish and yet more mature than the rest of us at times. He constantly amazed me with his brilliant deductions, made me smile with his deliberate misunderstandings and made me worry his ability to always get into trouble. He was a man who was known by everyone in all worlds; the world's only consulting detective, a man who the world will never forget and who I had been given the honour of meeting, the honour of joining his adventures and the honour of falling in love with. Those two men were more important to me than anything else in the world, but I shouldn't have been here- I claimed to try on keep the plot safe when my being here threw off the balance. My presence could be the deciding factor on whether Holmes lives or not and my own selfish emotions were getting in the way.

I looked Moriarty in the eye, confidence welling up in me as I reached my conclusion.

"I do."


	38. Chapter 38: The Fall

"I do," I repeated, then let a sarcastic smirk slip onto my face. "But I'm not going to."

The triumphant look on his face changed to confusion and anger, but I wasn't scared of him any more and I didn't let my confidence shy away.

"I'm not an idiot, and my guess is that even if you were actually going to send me home then you wouldn't be able to do it here at this moment," I continued. "Therefore I would need to wait until after the peace summit and _after_ your little party trick, which would mean I need to work with you and stop Holmes from stopping you, and even though I miss my family like hell I'm not going to let you win just so I can see my family again."

"Is that the case?" Moriarty asked in a nonchalant manner, though I could see anger in his eyes and knew he didn't appreciate my defiance. Perhaps he knew that this was part of a film in my world, perhaps he knew that I had seen the film- but he didn't know how it ended and that was my advantage here. Though I doubt anything I said would convince him that he was going to lose, and that the trout he had caught was in reality a shark. "But what if I could send you back right now? Would you stay even then?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitance. "You aren't looking far enough into the future, maybe at first it would be tearful reunion with plenty of happiness and joy- but that would soon fade away and I would be back to a monotonous existence with the only difference being that I would end up missing this world even more. Holmes and Watson are more important to me than anyone else and I have never felt closer to anyone else- so if you think I'm going to back down and let you bribe me then you're wrong."

"You think that by doing this you are wise, that by choosing to sacrifice your way back to your own world that you are picking the right option but we both know that isn't true- you don't belong here," replied the professor, shaking his head almost piteously.

"But this isn't about where I belong," I pointed out, clenching my fists as I stared him down and tried not to flinch away from those cruel, intelligent eyes. "If we were to look at it logically then it is still better that I remain here- after all if my leaving means you win then you can guarantee that I'm staying here."

"What if the options were you go back home… or you die?"

That was no bluff, I knew he was perfectly capable of killing me and he would do so given the chance- but I could fight if it came down to it. He may have been the boxing champion of Cambridge, but I knew many different martial arts and I may not have champion of anywhere but the few times I had entered any contest I'd been close. But that didn't matter right now, because I couldn't be the one to defeat Moriarty and the reason for that was there was only one way- over the falls. I wasn't prepared for that, the only one who had a chance of doing it was Holmes and anyone else would no doubt die.

"You're allowing your feelings for the detective to cloud your judgement," continued Moriarty. "You may believe that the decision you make is logical, but it will always be biased by them. This battle is between Holmes and I –not you, you have no place here and so it is more logical that you go back to your own world and forget about this."

Maybe it was, but that didn't mean I was going to just walk away and leave them to it. Call me a heartless bitch, but I was going to stay here rather than go back and worry my family with lies of where I have been. What could I tell that they would believe? A mother knows when her child is lying and the truth would have me pegged as insane.

"Well if it's my feelings clouding my judgement then you'll know that I would only leave if Holmes wanted me to," I replied, leaning against the cold stone and folding my arms across my chest once again. There was no way I was going to let this man scare me, even if this did end up turning into a fight and this took a turn for the worst. My heart was racing in my chest, I was shivering as the cold sunk its teeth into me and I imagined that this was nothing compared to a trip over the falls.

"You're going to catch your death out here," tutted the criminal, like a concerned parent, and went over to retrieve the furs which he and Holmes would sport during their chess game. I watched him carefully as he came back over, stepping forward so he could wrap it around me and recognising my chance to end this now. All I had to do was wrap my own arms around him and we would plunge over the falls together, both to our death and send everything back to normal- a world without either myself or Moriarty. I could spare Holmes the falls and Watson the grief; it would be the perfect solution. All I had to do was work up the courage to take that final step and it would all be over with.

I looked into the eyes of the criminal and told myself it was for the best- I could do this, I could be the one to end this.

Except I couldn't.

I wasn't going to kill myself for some grand ending to my life, what the point of me doing something so stupid when Holmes already had a plan and could survive this. When it came down to it which was better? Me doing it and dying, or Holmes doing it and surviving? If he was going to die then I would have most certainly done it- the world wouldn't be able to survive without the great Sherlock Holmes.

"Perhaps you should step back inside, Alex."

We both turned to see Holmes come through the door, hands clasped together behind his back and a cold look in his eye as he regarded Moriarty. It looked like even if I had planned to do it the world wouldn't have allowed it and all would have continued as planned. But as it were I gratefully stepped away from the man and walked over to Holmes, taking the fur and wrapping it around him instead as I kissed him lightly on the lips.

"You took your time," I said quietly, slipping one of my hands into his. "How's your shoulder?"

"As good as can be expected," he replied, not looking away from Moriarty. "Perhaps we can save this discussion for a later date- we can't keep Moriarty waiting."

"You mean you can't," I corrected, feeling the warmth escaping from the room covering my body and beckoning me inside. "You've already dismissed me."

Glancing one last time over my shoulder at Moriarty before turning back to Holmes, I leaned towards him and whispered three words in his ears. Not looking to see his reaction I headed indoors, my heart sinking as I realised this could be my last chance to see the man I love and I turned around to see his sparkling eyes watching me as the door closed shut between us.

Watson was stood to the side with Simza as the officials prepared for the photograph and I headed over to join them, determined to make Holmes proud and figure out who Rene was posing as. But as Watson explained the situation to me I couldn't help but think back to Holmes and the battle he was about to face. In less than ten minutes it would all be over, and world war would be diverted for a couple more decades.

Everything went the way the movie had planned, we stopped the assassination but the assassin was in turn taken care of by Moran and it was a dash for us to reach Holmes onto the balcony, a quick meeting of blue and brown eyes, and then they were gone. I ran over to the railing and leaned over, watching them fall- Moriarty's enraged expression and Holmes's zen-like calmness.

I watched them until they were swallowed up by the falls, the image burnt into my mind and playing over and over again as if to antagonize me even more. Watson stood with as we looked over in mute shock, unable to say anything and only able to hold onto each other as we silently prayed that Holmes had made it. Tears filled my eyes and overwhelming sense of grief came over me, and I hoped that I would be able to see him one more time.


	39. Epilogue

There was never any hope of recovering the bodies once they had plummeted into that icy cauldron, if there had been then perhaps it could have been a small comfort to know that he truly had escaped from the falls and then perhaps the nightmares that which held me so tightly in their grip would vanish. Nightmares which whispered words into my ears of small maybes that left thousands of untold possibilities; maybe Holmes had died, maybe Moriarty was alive and maybe Moran, who has escaped the grasp of the authorities, was coming to hunt down Watson and I. The only light in the darkness was the delivery of the parcel that had yet to come and with it the answers to this mess.

Upon returning to London I continued to keep residence at 221B Baker Street, with the occasional payments from Mycroft in return for the knowledge that the rooms would remain the way they were and my own income from the continued practice of Holmes's methods. Though I would never be as great as the man himself, I carried on with Watson's continued assistance- for recent developments meant he was determined to make sure I was alright- and with Lestrade's support despite my gender.

When the time came for Holmes's funeral I sat with Watson, hiding behind the men who stood in front of us and unwilling to accept the news. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as the past few weeks passed through my thoughts, exploring the rooms on my own and finding some of the items from past cases. Mrs Hudson had cleaned out the jungle, but there was still a strong odour which reminded me of that crazy moment and made me wish I could go back- but I couldn't live those moments again. The only solace I had were the three words I whispered to him on the balcony, which I hoped meant as much to him as they did to me and would make him come back soon.

"I'm surprised to see so many people," I commented quietly, looking about the room at the large crowds that had turned out to the funeral. "He must have helped a lot of people."

"He always did a good job," agreed Watson, placing his hand on mine in a comforting gesture. "You'll do a good job as well."

"I hope so- he wouldn't appreciate it if I turned out like Scotland Yard's finest," I replied, smiling slightly at the idea. "It's going to be hard without him."

How long would it take him come back? Watson had told me that soon he would be going on his honeymoon which meant soon the parcel would arrive and soon we would have our hope.

"Mary and I will be at hand to help you out, as well as Mrs Hudson." He gave my hand a quick squeeze. "Both of you."

I placed my hand over my stomach, my heart racing as I played over my conversation with Holmes and allowed a smile to cross my face. If only he were here now, I could only imagine what his reaction would be like and my heart sank as I wiped away a few tears. Why couldn't he be here now? Did he have to stay away and pretend to be dead?

Mary came over and joined us, smiling kindly at me and offering her condolences even though we both knew she wasn't fond of the detective. But even so she had been kind to be in light of recent events and so I couldn't put her down- well I could, but that would have been mean. She stayed with us for the remainder of the service, by her husband's side as we remembered the great man that was Sherlock Holmes and wondered how the world would cope without him.

When the service ended, people left in groups whilst others remained behind as we savoured this one last moment and prayed for one last miracle. Eventually only Mary, Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, Clarkey and I remained, the elder Holmes coming over to us when the doorways were clear.

"If there is anything I can help you out with then all you have to do is ask," he said to me. "After all you are like family now and my dear brother would have wanted it."

There was a look in his eyes which could have been interpreted as a wink and I thanked him gratefully at this, happiness welling me at the message contained within. With a few parting words to the Watsons he departed, leaving Scotland Yard's finest to approach us in an apologetic manner.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you so soon," began Lestrade and I could imagine Holmes making a wisecrack about this. "But we have a case that requires your attention."

"Well, I'm no Sherlock Holmes- but I'll give it a go," I replied, excitement filling me at the prospect of working on a case- I would make Holmes proud. Watson and Mary exchanged a silent look, and I saw her nod in acknowledgement. He got to his feet, offering his hand to me as he helped me up.

"Will you allow me to assist you?" he asked, and I pretended to think about it.

"Of course," I said at last. "Where would I be without my Boswell?"

THE END


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